
aass_X^_ I 9. 
Book. _y_^_. 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



By ARVEDE BARINE 

Authorized English Versions. Each Octavo 
Fully illustrated. (By mail, $3.25.) Net, $3.00 

The Youth of La Grande Mademoiselle 

1627-1652 

Louis XIV. and La Grande Mademoiselle 

1652-1693 

Princesses and Court Ladies 
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 

Nmw York London. 




MARIE MANCINI 
From the painting ^by Mignard 



Princesses 



and 



Court Ladies 



By 

Arvede Barine 

Author of "The Youth of La Grande Mademoiselle,'* 
" Louis XIV and La Grande Mademoiselle," etc. 



Authorized English Version 



Marie Mancini — Christina of Sweden 
An Arab Princess — The Duchess of Maine 
The Margravine of Bayreuth 



G. P. Putnam's Sons 

New York and London 

XLbe IRnicfterbocftcr ffircas 
1906 



^1°"^ 
:^^^i 



ILIBRARYofCOH3RESS 
0n6<>yy Hoeemi 

DEC ? 1906 

GL.^SS A XXc, Ho, 



Copyright, 1906 

BV 

G. P PUTNAM'S SONS 



Contents 




Marie Manciini ...... 


I 


Christina of Sweden ..... 


• 73 


An Arab Princess 


. 148 


The Duchess of Maine 


. 210 


The Margravine of Bayreuth . . . 


. 288 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

Marie Mancini Frontispiece 

From the painting by Mignard. 

PAGE 

Cardinal Mazarin 18/ 

From the portrait by R. GayTvood. 

Anne of Austria ^o ^ 

After the portrait by S. Harding. 

Marie Theresa 46 '^ 

From an old copper engraving. 

Prince Charles of Lorraine 50 ' 

From an old copper print. 

HoRTENSE Mancini 60 

From an old copper print. 

TiiE Connetable Colonna 68 '/ 

After the portrait by Giacomo Bichi. 

Louis XIV 72 

After a print by Manteinl. 

Queen Christina of Sweden 74 

From an old copper print. 

Queen Eleonora of Sweden 78 v/ 

From an old copper print. 

Gustavus Adolphus 84*' 

From an old copper print. 

Count Axel Oxenstiern 92 

From an old copper print. 

Abbe Bourdelot 104 

After the painting by N. de Largillier. 



vi Illustrations 

PAGE 

DucHEssE Du Maine 212 / 

After the portrait by Staal. 

Due DU Maine 218 

From an old copper print. 

Nicholas de Malezieu 228 ^ 

From an old copper print. 

Madame de Maintenon 246 . 

From the engraving by P. Giffart. 

Louis XV 256 ,] 

After the painting by Hyacinthe Rigaud. 

Philippe Due d'Orleans 262 

From an old copper print. 

Rene DsseARXEs 274 

From an engraving by J. Chapman. 

Marchioness du Chatelet 276 

From an old copper print. 

Voltaire 280 

From an engraving by James Mollison of the pic- 
ture by Largillier in the Institute of France. 

Frederike Sophie Wilhelmina 290 

Frederick William I, King of Prussia 300 

From an engraving by G. F. Schmidt. 

Sophia Dorothea, Queen of Prussia 304 

From an old copper print. 

Frederick, Duke of Gloucester 308 

From the painting by I. Simon. 

Augustus the Strong, King of Poland 312 

From an old print . 

Frederick the Great '". 320 

From an old copper print. 



PRINCESSES AND COURT 
LADIES 



MARIE MANCINI 

THERE was once upon a time a great king who 
governed the most beautiful country in the 
world. His court, like himself, was full of youth, 
joy, and magnificence ; everything in his enchanted 
palace spoke of pleasure, gallantry, splendour, and 
especially of love. A hundred beauties sought to 
attract the young sovereign's attention, for besides 
being king, he was the handsomest man in the 
dominion. 

At the court, there was a little, black-eyed, ill- 
favoured, gipsy-like maid, whom her uncle, the 
prime minister, had brought up from childhood. 
She was wild, passionate, but full of wit, and her 
mad pranks amused the king. He took such 
pleasure in her company that soon he could not 
do without it and vowed that he would marry her. 
The queen, his mother, opposed his passion and 
separated the two lovers, whereat there was much 
sorrow, and many tears were shed. But the 
queen was not to be gainsaid. The gipsy-like 
maid after this went through many adventures. 



2 Princesses and Court Ladies 

committed innumerable follies, in the course of 
which she blossomed into beauty. One fine day 
she disappeared and no one knew what had 
become of her. 

This fairy tale is a true story, the events of 
which took place at the court of France during 
the seventeenth century. The handsome prince 
was Louis XIV. The wild gipsy was Marie 
Mancini, the niece of Cardinal Mazarin. We shall 
endeavour to relate this royal romance.^ 



On September the eleventh, 1647, j^st before 
the Fronde, the Court of France received from 
Italy three little girls and a little boy, before 
whom the courtiers bowed with indecorous ser- 
vility. A lady, belonging to the Noailles family, 
went for them in great pomp as far as Rome ; one 
of the Rochefoucaulds, who had been governess 
to the king, was appointed to care for their instruc- 
tion ; the queen mother brought them up with her 
own children, and they were treated like princes 
and princesses of the blood. These little foreign- 
ers bore obscure Italian names: three were Man- 
cinis and one was a Martinozzi. Their mothers 
were the sisters of Cardinal Mazarin. 

' In 1880 M. Chantelauze published an excellent book on 
Louis XIV and Marie Mancini. Earlier still Am6d6e Ren^e told 
the story of Mazarin's nieces. We have made great use of these 
two works. 



Marie Mancini 3 

In 1653, after the Fronde, there was a fresh 
arrival of nieces and nephews belonging to the all- 
powerful cardinal: three other Mancinis and one 
Martinozzi. A last little Mancini, with her brother, 
reached Paris in 1655. In all, there were seven 
nieces and three nephews, whom it was necessary 
to provide with dowries, husbands, wives, and 
sinecures. 

Some far-seeing persons were struck, not so 
much with the grace and charm of these children, 
as with the thought of what they were likely to 
cost the nation; foreseeing, not without sorrow, 
the important part to be played by this handsome, 
strange, and dangerous family, superstitious, with- 
out religion, full of wit and of eccentricity, in all 
things passionate and unrestrained, living in the 
midst of pictures and artistic baubles, of singular 
pets, astrologers, and poets. There was much 
beauty among these young people, and they were 
wild over poetry, music, and love-making. Their 
faces and their ideas were equally original. The 
art of seduction was natural to them. Their 
tastes remained Italian, elegant, refined, and 
mysteriously alarming. No Frenchwoman at 
Court knew how to dress, ornament her home, or 
organise festivities as did the Mazarines. Not 
one had read so much, could discuss the topics of 
the day with so much spirit, or entertain with so 
much intelligence, grace, or, if need be, haughti- 
ness. Not one, either, was so accustomed to 
notions which, outside of Italy, seemed very 



4 Princesses and Court Ladies 

startling. Marie Mancini, after she had become a 
Colonna, said and wrote, as though it were the 
simplest thing in the world, that she had left her 
honest husband, lest he should take it into his 
head to punish her "Itahan vagaries" by poison- 
ing her. It is never quite wholesome to look upon 
such expedients as natural. Little by little the 
Mazarines were regarded with distrust, and at the 
first opportunity that distrust grew into an evil 
rumour. 

Bold and fearless, their passion for romantic 
adventures savoured of exoticism as did their 
persons. Unlike the great ladies of the Fronde, 
they were adventuresses rather than heroines; so 
long as the excitement of their frolics amused their 
fancy, they had no fear of compromising them- 
selves. Pride helped them through many a criti- 
cal pass, and, when even that failed, they in no 
way lost their spirits. An adventure that turned 
against them, in a way that would have covered 
any other women with shame, seemed to them a 
venture that had miscarried and must be recom- 
menced — nothing more. 

They did not believe in half measures. Two 
among them, Laure Mancini, Duchess of Mercoeur, 
and Anne-Marie Martinozzi, Princess of Conti, 
were of a gentler mould. They turned to piety 
and attained saintliness. With the exception of 
these two, and perhaps also of Laure Martinozzi, 
Duchess of Modena, it is hard to decide which 
carried off the palm of profligacy. These Maza- 



Marie Mancini 5 

rines looked on life as a game at which only the 
fools do not cheat, a game with pleasure for the 
stake, especially, forbidden pleasure, so much 
more savoury than any other. Almost the whole 
family was lacking in any sense of morality. 
This is a distinctive trait of the race. Mazarin 
never had any. His nieces did not even know 
the meaning of the word. Like their uncle they 
seemed utterly without conscience. 

The cardinal was inordinately grasping.^ One 
is amazed at the enormous fortune he acquired in 
less than twenty years, at a time when foreign 
and civil wars were ruining the country. On 
every occasion, his great thought, his principal 
preoccupation, was to scrape money together. 
In the days of his obscure youth, he lived, and 
lived far too well, by gaming. His enemies often 
reproached him with his surprisingly persistent 
good luck at cards. As prime minister, he robbed 
France by all and every means. Like Panurge, he 
had sixty-three ways of turning money into his 
coffers, the most honest of which was hardty to be 
distinguished from stealing. Mazarin 's most 
avowable means of getting rich was by plunging 
his hands into the king's treasury. This was 
better than selling offices, better than becoming 
"purveyor and bread vendor to the army," as 



* The rehabilitation of Mazarin has been attempted more than 
once in our day. (See the interesting works of M. Cheruel.) In 
this study, we have left aside the political man, to show only the 
private individual, as he appeared in the eyes of his contemporaries. 



6 Princesses and Court Ladies 

Madame de Motteville accuses him of having been 
during the siege of Dunkerque (1658): "It is said 
that he caused wine, meat, bread, and water to be 
sold, and that he made a profit on all these com- 
modities. He named himself grand master of the 
artillery and, in great as in small things, gained 
thereupon. For that reason, the suffering was 
terrible during the siege." ^ He sold even water 
to the soldiers: nothing more need be added. 
Thanks to this frightful pillage, he left a fortune 
that Fouquet estimated at a hundred millions of 
francs. In order to understand what such a sum 
represented at that time, it will suffice to say that 
the budget of the nation was then fifty millions. 

He was not evil by nature, but he had base 
instincts. It is with such baseness as with certain 
colouring matters, a small quantity of which, 
thrown in a vat, suffices to defile all the water. 
His very accomplishments were polluted with this 
fatal trait. Nature had been prodigal to him, 
and he possessed many of the qualities which go to 
make a statesman, but, to use the vigorous words 
of Retz, "the ugly heart was seen through all." 
His intelligence was keen, his mind full of vivacity, 
fertile in resources, alive with sprightliness and 
grace; he was capable of conceiving great plans 
and of putting them into execution; he was not 
vindictive ; he forgot injuries as easily as services ; 
he was handsome, amiable, caressing; "he had so 
great a charm that those he liked could not help 

* Memoirs of Madame de Motteville. 



Marie Mancini 7 

but love him;" ^ yet he was despicable, and there 
were those who despised him, but he only laughed. 
Nothing is known of the origin and first years of 
Mazarin. It seems clear that he sprang from the 
dregs of the people; that his father had made a 
certain little fortune by serving a Colonna; and 
that he himself had known many ups and downs 
before he became a violet-stockinged monseigneur, 
one of the four handsomest prelates of Rome, says 
a panegyrist.' All else is vapour, fanciful tales, 
stories, dark or sunny, used by friend or foe. At 
last came the day when circumstances, intrigue, or 
personal merit, made of him, still a very young 
man, one of the negotiators from the papal court, 
then legate to France. The rest is well known. 
From the mud and obscurity of his beginnings 
sprang a power, a magnificence, a splendour of light 
which caused the proudest lords to bow before 
him and reigning princes to seek his alliance. 
His nieces, journeying from Rome to Paris, could 
measure the chasm between yesterday and to-day, 
between what they had abandoned and what they 
found. The Mancinis left behind them a sire who 
dabbled in astrology; the Martinozzis, a father 
sunk in profound obscurity: all sprang from very 
humble centres. In Paris they found an uncle, 
master of France, whose military household 
equalled that of the king and was commanded by 
the highest nobles of the land. They found 

1 Memoirs of de Bussy. 

' The Benedictine monk, Th. Bonnet. 



8 Princesses and Court Ladies 

palaces, millions, royal liixury. They took pos- 
session of their new fortune with the ease of young 
girls whom nothing could astonish, and they 
became so important in their new station that 
soon the gaze of Europe was fixed on them. The 
splendour of the Mazarines can only be likened to 
the glare of a Bengal light, of which it had the 
suddenness, the dazzling brilliancy, and the short 
duration. It is too little to say that these blind- 
ing flames illumined France; their light reached 
far beyond the frontiers, over the whole of the 
Occident, and brought to the feet of these Italian 
sirens princes from the south and the north, 
from the east and the west. Then, suddenly, 
the fire died out. Far-sounding scandals, ruins, 
exile, death, crushed and annihilated the ambitious 
band, not, however, before they had mingled their 
blood with that of the proudest nobles of Europe. 
Among the seven cousins, Marie Mancini has 
been chosen for this study, because she very 
nearly became Queen of France. Even apart 
from that circumstance she deserves to be chosen 
as the typical figure of her race, for she repre- 
sents the average Mazarine morality, equally 
removed from the saints and from the she-devils, 
from the Princess of Conti, and Olympe Mancini, 
Countess of Soissons. Setting aside the saints, 
Saint-Simon said of Marie, comparing her with 
the others : ' ' She is but a crazy thing, and yet the 
best of the Mazarines." Saint-Simon's judgment 
may be accepted. 



Marie Mancini ^ 9 

II 

In the second convoy of nephews and nieces 
that Mazarin had sent for, that of 1653, was a 
little creature of thirteen or fourteen, a very 
prodigy of ugliness in the opinion of the court. 
She was dark-skinned and yellow, with a long 
neck and never-ending arms. Her mouth was 
large and fiat, her black eyes were hard, and there 
was neither charm nor hope of charm in all her 
person. Her mind was made on the same model. 
"She was bold," wrote Madame de La Fayette,* 
" imperious, violent, indelicate, and ignorant of all 
the amenities of life." In the midst of her sisters 
and cousins she seemed some half -starved, rough- 
haired, wild animal, ready to bite; this displeasing 
little person was Marie Mancini. 

Her mother could make nothing of her. Madame 
Mancini died in Paris during the year 1656. 
Before breathing her last, she recommended her 
children to her brother, the cardinal, "and she 
urged especially that her third daughter, whose 
name was Marie, should be made to pronounce 
her vows, because of her untamable and evil nature ; 
and because her husband, the great astrologer, 
had predicted that she would be the cause of 
much woe."^ Madame Mancini was hard on her 
gipsy-like daughter, and the worthy M. Mancini 
would have been more wisely inspired if he had 

* Histoire de Madame Henrietta d* Angle terra. 
' Memoirs of Madame de Motteville. 



lo Princesses and Court Ladies 

read in the stars that it would be a good thing to 
place Olympe behind convent walls. Mazarin, 
though he believed in horoscopes, turned a deaf 
ear to his brother-in-law's predictions and kept 
Marie at court. Before long he greatly repented 
thereof. 

This little girl, so crudely described, was a veri- 
table product of the south, full of fire, passion, and 
violence. Heat seemed to radiate from her. 
Her black eyes were full of flames, and the flames 
softened them. Her face grew less dark. Her 
voice acquired accents of such depth and warmth 
that it moved all who listened; every gesture 
revealed the wild ardour of her being. At the same 
time her mind, by contact with the polished 
French world, grew in refinement. When she 
left Rome, she knew by heart the Italian poets, 
including Ariosto. Soon she was familiar with 
those of France. She was carried away with her 
enthusiasm for Comeille, Gomberville, La Calpre- 
nade, and Scudery intoxicated her. She was 
equally fond of heroic and amorous literature: 
the one went straight to her head, the other to 
her heart. She was passionately fond of all the 
arts. She was fascinated by astrology, which she 
had studied and to which she turned for advice in 
critical moments. There was about her some- 
thing ravenous and eternally consumed by inter- 
nal fires, and this inspired a sort of terror. During 
the illness which well-nigh carried off Louis XIV, 
in 1658, she amazed the court with her screams, 



Marie Mancini ii 

her sobs, her torrents of tears. All etiquette and 
even good manners were forgotten. In the face 
of heaven and earth she gave way to furious 
despair and ' ' killed herself with weeping. ' ' ^ 

This was the more remarkable for the reason 
that, in her family, the event was regarded from a 
very different point of view, a much more ' ' Maza- 
rine" point of view. The cardinal hid his treas- 
ures, moved his furniture, and began paying court 
to the friends of Monsieur, brother and heir to the 
king. Olympe, whose tender passion for Louis XIV 
was no secret, quietly went on with her card 
parties: a dying prince was a useless commodity 
and no longer interested her. When, against all 
expectations, the king recovered, "everybody," 
says Madame de La Fayette, " spoke to him of 
Mademoiselle Mancini 's sorrow." Madame de La 
Fayette shrewdly adds: ''Perhaps, later on, she 
may have told him of it herself." 

The king was twenty years of age. He had had 
intrigues with Madame de Beauvais, sumamed 
"Cateau la Borgnesse," his mother's lady in wait- 
ing; with a gardener's daughter; with a duchess 
of great and long experience, Madame de Chatillon. 
He had been in love. He had never been loved, 
perhaps because he was still timid with women; 
he was, after all, but a youth who grew red or pale 
when a pretty girl took him by the hand. He 
wept easily, wept tears of nervousness that old 
age was destined to give back to him. "Tears 

* Memoirs of Mademoiselle de Montpensier. 



12 Princesses and Court Ladies 

come to him which he cannot control, " wrote 
Madame de Maintenon, in 1705, to one of her con- 
fidants. 

The thought that he had at last excited a great 
passion, one of those extreme loves which, more 
than any other, he thought himself worthy to 
excite, could not leave him indifferent. He ex- 
amined Marie Mancini and found that she had 
improved in looks. He talked to her "with per- 
sistence"* and was carried away like straw in a 
hurricane. 

He loved Marie at first because she was deter- 
mined that he should do so; then, of his own 
accord, and from a nobler motive, he loved her 
because he felt in her a superior mind, through 
association with which his own mind broadened to 
horizons hitherto unknown. In order to under- 
stand this evolution we must, for a moment, 
forget the Louis XIV we are accustomed to con- 
sider, the roi-soleil, majestic in his part of demi-god, 
and remember what nature and education had 
made him at the age of twenty. 

That he was good-looking was admitted by all. 
His fine presence was enhanced by a natural and 
majestic grace which in the midst of his courtiers 
made of him "the king of the hive." He was 
clever at all sports and had been carefully trained 
as a horseman; he danced admirably. As far as 
intellectual culture went, Mazarin had quite 
neglected that part of his education. Accord- 

* Memoirs of Saint-Simon. 



Marie Mancini 13 

ing to his own confession, Louis XIV was pro- 
foundly ignorant, and he was not one of those 
privileged few who know by instinct what they 
have not been taught. The little he knew had 
been imparted by his teachers. The cardinal 
deemed it sufficient that he should play with his 
nieces. The young king's ideas needed to be 
stimulated, and no one saw fit to stimulate them; 
at twenty they still lay dormant. Deep down 
in his nature there existed, in germ, great quali- 
ties which later, out of a rather mediocre person- 
ality, made of him a great monarch; but these 
germs lacked air and light. Marie Mancini be- 
came his friend, and it was as though a glory of 
sunlight had burst into an obscure and closed 
recess. He learned and understood more things 
within six months than he had done in all his life 
before. 

She opened to him the world of heroes ; heroes of 
love, of constancy and abnegation, of glory. She 
revealed to him sentiments grand or subtle, pas- 
sionate or noble, that give value to life. She 
scolded him for his ignorance and became his pro- 
fessor, teaching him Italian, putting volumes of 
poetry in his hands, as well as romances and 
tragedies; reading verses and prose to him, with 
her rich voice vibrating with love, the intona- 
tions of which intoxicated or soothed him. She 
accustomed him to long, serious conversations 
with men of ripe years and great experience, 
excited him to emulate them, to find words full of 



14 Princesses and Court Ladies 

dignity and precision. To her, also, he owed the 
little he ever cared for art. 

He owed her yet more. Thanks to her, he grew 
ashamed of having no high ambitions, no dreams 
good or bad, no desires beyond the choice of a 
costume or the step of a ballet. She bade him 
remember that he was a king, and prompted him 
to become a great king. This lesson he never 
forgot. 

His love grew out of his admiration for his 
Algeria. In the beginning, before Marie became 
his teacher, his feeling for her was like that of 
most very young men. She tells the story of this 
dawning attachment most gracefully in a writing 
entitled Apologie} The familiar way in which I 
saw the king and his brother was something so 
pleasant and sweet, that I could say, without the 
least constraint, all that I wished to say, and it 
happened that sometimes, in doing so, I gave them 
pleasure. Once, having gone with the court to Fon- 
tainebleau,^ for we always followed in the king's 
train, I heard on my return that the king by no 
means hated me. I possessed enough penetration 
to understand that sort of eloquence which, silent, 
yet speaks louder than the most elaborate words. 
It is possible that my own feelings for the king, in 
whom I had discovered nobler qualities and 

» The complete title is" Apologie o^ yeri tables Memoires de Ma- 
dame Marie Mancini, connetable de Colonna, Merits par elle-meme" 
(Leyde, 1678). 

' August-September, 1658. Louis XIV had fallen ill at the end 
of June. 



Marie Mancini 15 

greater merit than in any other man in France, 
had made me wiser in this respect than in any 
other. The evidence of my own eyes would 
scarcely have persuaded me that I had made so 
prodigious a conquest. The courtiers, natural 
spies of their master's actions, had, long before 
myself, discovered his Majesty's passion; they 
revealed it to me by their extraordinary sub- 
mission and flatteries. On the other hand, the 
attentions of the monarch, the magnificent pres- 
ents he showered upon me, and, yet more, his 
languor, his sighs, his compliance with my slightest 
wish, soon left no doubt on the subject." 

Languor, sighs, presents : such was in those days 
the usual language of love; so far, nothing distin- 
guishes this passion from any other. A few 
weeks later the young prince was possessed by an 
ardent and many-sided feeling, in which tender- 
ness, gratitude, admiration, submission, the adora- 
tion of a pupil for his professor, and the peculiar 
attraction exercised on men of the north by 
southern women, were all mingled. Marie Man- 
cini fed the fire by every means suggested by her 
nature. She followed the king step by step, 
scarcely left him, became the obsession of his life, 
knew how to render that obsession sweet to him, 
then necessary. In his palace she seemed to be 
his shadow, and he had eyes but for her. If the 
court travelled. Mademoiselle Mancini left the 
ladies in their coaches, mounted her horse, and 
rode over hill and dale with her knight. For 



i6 Princesses and Court Ladies 

these two, winter or summer, wind, rain, or cold, 
did not exist: they were together, that sufficed; 
nothing else mattered. She taught him to con- 
fide in her absolutely: she knew his thoughts, his 
affairs, his plans, all he had heard or learned. 
From confidante to adviser there is but a step, and 
that step was soon taken. Mistress of the king's 
heart and mind, and absolute mistress, Marie 
Mancini bethought her of making good use of her 
power. She lifted her eyes to the throne of 
France and deemed it within her reach. She 
insinuated as much, and her audacity was not re- 
buked. With the king, two other persons only 
had a voice in the matter: one was the queen, the 
other was Cardinal Mazarin. In order to under- 
stand what Marie had to expect either for or 
against her, it will be necessary to examine the 
personal relations of these two, and the progress 
of the Mazarin family since its invasion of France. 



Ill 



When, on the fourteenth of May, 1643, 
Louis XIV came to the throne, Mazarin 's position 
at the court of France was most insecure. The 
late king had made him enter the council of 
regency, but the queen-regent; hated him because 
of Richelieu's protection. He made some pre- 
tence of leaving the game and announced his 
departure for Rome; yet he bethought him that 



Marie Mancini 17 

his Italian graces might serve his course. Circum- 
stances shaped his course. Anne of Austria held 
the power; it was necessary for him to win the 
heart of Anne, so that the queen should be sub- 
servient to the woman. Mazarin began the siege 
on which so much depended. 

The queen mother had just passed her for- 
tieth birthday. She was coquettish, but affected 
a romantic and languishing sort of coquetry, 
which prized above all things tender conversa- 
tions, love-stricken looks, and delicate attentions. 
Madame de Chevreuse, confidante of Anne's earlier 
years, affirmed that the aversion with which 
Anne turned from Cardinal Richelieu came from 
the fact that "in love he was pedantic," an 
insupportable fault in very deed, and which few 
women can forgive. Mazarin's letters, on the 
contrary, show that small attentions were always 
grateful to the queen. When they were both 
old, he very gouty, and much preoccupied by 
the treaty of the Pyrenees, he yet made her 
small presents, as to a bread-and-butter miss. 
From Saint-Jean-de-Luz, he writes: "Here is a 
box with eighteen fans, which has been sent to 
me from Rome. . . . You will also receive four 
pairs of gloves which my sister has forwarded 
to me." 

Mazarin took a hint from Richelieu's failure. 
He was by no means pedantic. He seemed to 
be madly in love and yet crushed by the con- 
viction of his unworthiness. He melted into 



1 8 Princesses and Court Ladies 

tenderness and remained so humble that he was 
as dust under the feet of his goddess. He showed 
himself more persuasive than pressing, more sub- 
missive than persuasive, more amiable than 
submissive. And he succeeded. 

What he became, once master of the situa- 
tion, his "correspondence" w^ith Anne of Austria 
reveals clearly enough. During one of his exiles 
at the time of the Fronde, the queen ends a letter 
with this passionate cry: "Yours, till my last 
breath; farewell, all my strength has left me." 
The memories he left were indelible. At fifty- 
eight years of age, she writes: "Your letter filled 
me with joy; I scarcely know whether I shall be 
fortunate enough to persuade you of this truth. 
If I thought that a letter from me could give 
you as much pleasure, how willingly I should 
have written! I remember the time when you 
received such epistles with transports of grati- 
tude, a time ever present to my mind, whatever 
else you may think. If you could read in my 
heart as easily as you read this letter, I am sure 
that you would be content, or else you would 
indeed be the most ungrateful man in the world — 
and that I will not believe." * Mazarin's letters 
were written after the same style: "How happy 
should I be, how satisfied you would be, could 
you see my heart, or if I could express all I feel, 
even but half of what I feel! Then, indeed, you 
would acknowledge that never was affection 

1 Letter of July 30, 1660. 




CARDINAL MAZARIN 
From the portrait by R. Gaywood 



Marie Mancini 19 

equal to that which I experience for you. I 
confess that I could scarcely, beforehand, have 
imagined that it could thus take away all taste 
and liking for everything that is not you."^ He 
knew his power and liked to exert it: "Were 
you near the sea, I think you would be happier; 
I trust you may be, before long." In their 
secret language, the sea was himself. What an 
immeasurable triumph, what a tickling of vanity, 
what a delicious feeling of mastership, was ex- 
perienced by this parvenu, when he held at his 
mercy one of the proudest princesses that ever 
lived ! 

Many of their contemporaries believed in a 
private marriage. To this there was no abso- 
lute obstacle, as Mazarin was cardinal without 
having taken orders. But, as authentic proofs 
are lacking, historians vary, and will never come 
to an understanding. Some claim that the queen's 
piety would never have allowed her to take a 
paramour. Others allege her pride, which could 
ill brook a hosier as father-in-law, would have 
prevented such a step. Both sides quote the 
documents of the day, and these would be pretty 
equally balanced, had not the partisans in favour 
of the marriage found an almost unanswerable 
argument. After a time Mazarin became sin- 
gularly free and unceremonious with the queen. 
The attentions and caresses were mingled with a 
certain roughness and neglect which smacked of 

1 Letter written in exile. May ii, 165 1. 



20 Princesses and Court Ladies 

the husband. He showed himself for what he 
really was: a disagreeable grumbler. *'Noone," 
says his niece Hortense, " ever had better manners 
in public or worse at home."^ Anne of Austria 
was destined to know both the good and the bad 
manners. It must be confessed that such things 
set one thinking. 

However that may be, the love of the queen 
for Mazarin was so deep that in it she found 
the strength to defend him against all things and 
all men, in spite of her natural indolence. When 
he left her she was beside herself. "She seems 
distraught," said a libel of the time,^ and the 
expression was a true one. It is not our mission 
to recall the struggles of the Fronde; during those 
troublous times, but for her devotion and fidelity, 
Mazarin would inevitably have fallen a victim 
to the hatred and contempt of the people. He 
was saved by prodigies of love, and he knew it. 
Henceforth Mazarin walked on clouds. Down 
with humility! Give way to the veritable sov- 
ereign of France! He made up for having crept 
into favour, and soon, like his niece Marie, thought 
no position too exalted for him and his : the throne 
itself seemed within their grasp. He had, more- 
over, been clever enough to give Louis XIV 
brothers-in-law of whom he need not be ashamed. 

The eldest of the Mancinis^ Laure, in 1651, had 
married the Duke of Mercoeur, grandson of 

1 Memoirs of the duchess of Mazarin. 
' L'Exorciste de la reine. 



Marie Mancini 21 

Henri V and the beautiful Gabrielle. The fol- 
lowing year, Anne -Marie Martinozzi was wedded 
to the Prince of Conti, brother to the great Conde 
and of royal blood. Then came the turn of the 
second Martinozzi, who, in 1655, became Duchess 
of Modena. In 1657 Olympe Mancini married 
Prince Eugene of Carignan, Count of Soissons, 
belonging to the house of Savoie. She too had 
dreamt of the French crown and had touched it 
with the tips of her fingers. Seeing that the king 
did not seem inclined to give it to her, she, being 
of a practical turn of mind, turned her attention 
elsewhere. Her uncle had done his best to help 
her to climb the steps of the throne, but "all the 
astrologers had been so unanimous in assuring 
her that she could not succeed that she had 
giyen up all thought of it. " ^ The beautiful 
Hortense was still unmarried, but was surrounded 
by a court of princely admirers. 

With his nephews, the cardinal was less lucky. 
Of the three, two, remarkably gifted, died young. 
The third, whom his uncle created Duke of Nevers, 
was a brilliant scatter-brain and good-for-nothing. 

He could do without the boys. Thanks to 
the ^irls, the family appeared able to withstand 
the wildest tempests. The giddy heights of 
prosperity already attained made the ambitious 
dream of Marie Mancini seem not impossible. 
The Court was ready to accept it, since the 
king's marriage with Olympe had been seriously 

^ Histoire de Madame Henriette by Madame de La Fayette. 



22 Princesses and Court Ladies 

considered. Marie thought that, in this, as in all 
things, the queen would be guided by the cardinal. 
As to her uncle, how could she imagine that he 
woiild not rejoice at having such a nephew ? 



IV 



In point of fact, her uncle was willing enough. 
Had Mazarin been a saint he might have put aside 
so great a temptation; but he was no saint. 
On the other hand, he was no fool, and would 
never, for the sake of vainglory, have given up 
the solid advantages which he already possessed. 
He loved power and money; he meant to keep 
them; the grandeur of his niece, seated on the 
throne of France, would in no way have consoled 
him for their loss. One must never lose sight 
of this point of view in following the intricate 
and difficult game played by the cardinal during 
this crisis. Monsieur de Brienne ^ put his finger 
on the situation when he said in his " Memoirs " : 
' ' In spite of all that his Eminence may have said 
on the subject, if the marriage of his Majesty 
with his niece had been possible, and if his Emi- 
nence had therein found his own security, it is 
certain that he would not have opposed it. His 
own security: that was the point. Ambitious, 
unscrupulous, but full of sagacity, such was the 
uncle. The niece's best tactics would have been 

1 Memoirs of Madame de Motteville. 



Marie Mancini 23 

to give him no cause for alarm. Unfortunately 
for her dream of happiness, Marie Mancini was 
incapable of prudence. She was too violent, too 
much carried away by her own fancies to be 
cunning," 

We have seen that the king's passion for Mad- 
emoiselle Mancini burst into life during a sojourn 
of the Court at Fontainebleau. The queen 
mother saw it with great displeasure, and the 
"venerated quality of the niece "^ did not keep 
her from letting the uncle understand her feelings 
on the subject quite plainly. Whenever the 
king was in question, the cardinal felt his hold 
upon her loosen. The indelible memories were 
obliterated, and Mazarin saw before him a great 
princess, as haughty, as proud of her blood, as 
though he had never been more than a worm at 
her feet. In stormy interviews, she spoke with 
great violence, but in vain, for "the king's pas- 
sion was at first fostered by the minister."^ 
Marie was left free to do as she chose, and she 
fought for her love as a she-wolf for her young. 
She was ever at the king's side, ready to bite, 
her dark face illumined by the intensity of her 
passion. Those who saw her said that she was 
transfigured by the expression, touching, as well 
as terrible, of her countenance, of her whole being. 

Meanwhile, negotiations were going on to bring 
about a marriage between Louis XIV and a prin- 
cess of Savoie. This alliance was not distasteful 

» Memoirs of Madame de Motteville. 



!'i4 Princesses and Court Ladies 

to the cardinal, for the King of France would then 
have been cousin to his niece Olympe. How- 
ever, in order to quiet Marie, he allowed her to 
accompany him to Lyons, where the interview 
was to take place. The Court started October 
the 26th, 1658. Marie, in her Apologie, thus de- 
scribes her emotions before the struggle: "A 
great storm blew up which disturbed the peace 
of those days, but it soon passed away. There 
was a project of union between the king and 
Princess Marguerite of Savoie; . . . and that 
forced the Court to journey as far as Lyons. 
Such a measure was cruel to a heart full of tender- 
ness. I leave this point to the imagination of 
those who have loved and who know what it is 
to fear the loss of the beloved one, especially if 
that one is high above all other men; when pride 
sanctions the beatings of the heart, and when 
reason herself inclines it to beat yet more. ..." 
• She fought valiantly. She went from Paris 
to Lyons, almost all the way on horseback, side 
by side with the king, who conversed with her 
"in all gallantry."* At the halt, every evening, 
there was another tete-d-tete. They would talk 
thus, four or five hours at a time, with the un- 
tiring facility of lovers. They played together, 
danced together, ate together, thought together. 
It was more than an obsession ; it was possession, 
one of the most curious examples offered by his- 
tory of the melting of one personality in another, 

* Memoirs of Mademoiselle de Montpensier. 



Marie Mancini 25 

and that without the help of any of the means 
modem science sometimes employs. There 
seemed no possible chance left for the king to 
take a resolution of his own free will; his very 
thoughts were suggested to him, his emotions 
imposed on him. 

It was in these dispositions that Lyons was 
reached. The queen mother was sad. The Sa- 
voie marriage was not to her taste — she wished 
for the Infanta of Spain — and she feared the 
wiles of "that girl," should the affair not succeed. 
Mazarin was serene, for he possessed the means 
of breaking off the union with Savoie, should he 
see fit to do so. At Macon he had met Pimentel, 
the emissary from Spain, who had come to offer 
the Infanta to Louis XIV, and he had hidden the 
Spaniard, sure of being able to produce him if 
the proper moment should come. The comedy 
was so well combined and so admirably played 
that the contemporaries were deceived and be- 
lieved in -the providential appearance of Pimentel 
at Lyons, during the interview with the Princess 
of Savoie. Monsieur Chant elauze discovered that, 
on this occasion, Providence wore a red robe and 
spoke with a strong Italian accent. The proofs 
thereof are at the Archives of the Ministry of 
Foreign Affairs. It is not over-bold to state that 
Mazarin kept his eyes wide open and, during the 
journey, followed the progress of Marie's intimacy 
with the king, and that this was not without 
some influence on the amazing appearance of 



26 Princesses and Court Ladies 

the Spanish envoy on the stage. As to his Emi- 
nence's meditations between Macon and Lyons, 
it would be impossible to unravel so tangled a 
skein. 

All we know is that he kept his secret, and 
that his was the first coach that went to meet 
the court of Savoie. The queen followed with 
her son. Marie Mancini remained behind, eating 
her heart, never guessing what was happening on 
the road to Italy. The two courts had met, and 
Princess Marguerite had appeared so irremedi- 
ably plain, so lacking in charm and grace, that all 
French eyes were offended by the sight — all 
except those of the king. He was ready to fall 
in love on the spot. As soon as he was out of 
the imperious presence of Mademoiselle Mancini, 
he was free once more. Explain it as one can, 
the fascination vanished with the charmer. Of 
a sudden the love-lorn swain disappeared. There 
remained a youth to whom a bride is offered, a 
youth not hard to please and who greatly wished 
to be married. The king stepped into the same 
coach with the princess and spoke to her, in a 
tone of great confidence, of his musketeers and 
his men at arms. She answered after the same 
fashion. They might have known each other all 
their lives. Marie seemed forgotten. The Duchess 
of Savoie looked on this touching spectacle with 
tender delight, the Court of France with amaze- 
ment, the queen mother with consternation. 

The evening of this strange day was agitated. 



Marie Mancini 27 

The queen, haunted by the ugly face of the prin- 
cess, pleaded with her son, reasoned with him,, 
wept, and his answer was: "I will have her,"^ — 
and that "after all, he was the master." She 
applied to the cardinal, who very coldly answered 
that "it was none of his business and that he 
would not meddle with it." She entreated Heaven 
to have pity on her and ordered prayers to be 
offered up in the convents for the rupture of this 
marriage. In her distress, she forgot that, close 
at hand, was help, far more powerful than that 
which she could obtain from all the monks and 
nuns of the kingdom; that she had only to let 
Marie Mancini take the field and that poor 
little Princess Marguerite would at once sink into 
nothingness. If the queen did not think of this, 
Marie did. The execution was a short one. 

She had watched the return of the carriages 
and had seized the Grande Mademoiselle to learn 
from her what had happened. If resigned and 
plaintive, she was lost. She was bold enough 
to show her jealousy,^ and that evening the king 
had to submit to a scene of great violence: "Are 
you not ashamed," she said, "to accept an ugly 
wife?"^ Then came a storm of reproaches, of 
sarcasms, addressed to the "hunchback," and a 
thousand words, eloquent, harsh, impudent, and 
burning. The king was completely stunned. The 

1 Memoirs of Madame de Motteville. 
' Mem.oirs of Madame de Motteville. 
^ Memoirs of Mademoiselle de Montpensier. 



28 Princesses and Court Ladies 

next day, he seemed to have forgotten the pres- 
ence of Marguerite. Marie Mancini resumed her 
post by his side, and together they regaled the 
court of Savoie with the spectacle of their pas- 
sionate devotion. Mazarin put a stop to these 
indecorous scenes by producing the Spanish 
envoy and breaking with Savoie. This is how 
Marie tells the story of her victory: "As my 
sorrow was violent, it had the destiny of all 
violent emotions: it did not last long, and the 
king's marriage was broken as rapidly as it had 
been prepared. . . . Their Highnesses returned 
to Savoie, and my heart recovered its pristine 
peace." ^ 

The following months bring to mind the love 
duet of Rodrigue and Chimene. Certain that 
she was loved, Marie grew gentler. It was the 
flowering season of a youthful and poetical pas- 
sion. The days were not long enough for the 
oft-repeated "I love you!" On moon-lit even- 
ings, the same sweet words were said again. 
When, at last, Marie returned home, the king 
took the place of her coachman so as to breathe 
the same air as she. To please her, he imagined 
all kinds of romantic follies. He made of her 
life a perpetual festival, and ordered his cour- 
tiers to invent, for each day, some new pleasure 
for his divinity. Needless to say that the cour- 
tiers vied with each other. To the revels, none 
were invited except young and amorous couples, 

1 "Apologie." 



Marie Mancini 29 

and the brain whirled in this atmosphere of perpet- 
ual excitement: "I should need a whole volume," 
writes Marie, "if I wanted to describe all the adven- 
tures of these gallant festivities. I shall content 
myself with one, chosen out of many others, 
which will show how devoted was the king and 
how eagerly he took advantage of every occasion 
to proclaim this devotion. It was, if I remember 
right, at Bois-le-Vicomte, in an avenue where, as 
I was walking rapidly, the king sought to give me 
his hand, and having ever so lightly struck mine 
against his sword handle, with a charming ges- 
ture of anger, he drew the sword from its scab- 
bard and threw it away, I cannot say how 
gallantly ; there are no words to express it ! " 
What charming, juvenile, and sprightly tender- 
ness ! Nothing can be prettier than this explosion 
of anger. 

The enchantment lasted all winter (1658- 
1659). Mazarin, with great complacency, looked 
on. He meant always to govern his niece and, 
by her, the king who, visibly, was getting restless 
in his leading strings. Louis had the audacity 
to confer favours. The cardinal had roughly 
checked these attempts at revolt, but a certain 
unacknowledged uneasiness resulted from them. 
With Marie on the throne, he would become more 
powerful than ever. Anne of Austria would be 
indignant, but Anne of Austria was the past, and 
Mazarin was ungrateful. Besides, he knew how 
to bend her will. 



30 Princesses and Court Ladies 

He had a conversation with his niece. Marie 
told him that it would not be impossible for her 
to become queen if only he would help her. He 
could not refuse to play his part in so fine a game 
and spoke one day to the queen mother, making 
fun of his niece's folly, but after so ambiguous 
a fashion that he led her to understand his real 
thoughts. Her answer came like a blow. "I do 
not think, Cardinal, that the king is capable of so 
base an act ; but should he commit it, I warn you 
that the whole of France would rise against you 
and him; that I, myself, would head the revolt 
and do my best to drag my son after me." 

Mazarin remained stunned by this speech, 
which he never forgave, and for which he avenged 
himself after a truly conjugal fashion. He bowed, 
and waited. His niece lost the game by her im- 
prudence and impatience. It would have been 
as easy to imprison lightning in a cloud as to pre- 
vent an explosion from Marie Mancini. She went 
her way, regardless of the fact that she was 
alone. So much the worse for her uncle if he 
abandoned her; later, she would break his 
power. She had no sooner determined upon her 
course than she set to work. She told the whole 
tale to the king, with her accustomed fury. She 
ridiculed the cardinal from morning to night; 
this greatly amused his Majesty. Before long, 
Mazarin asked himself whether the day of her 
coronation would not be that of his disgrace. 
This suspicion enlightened his soul and revealed 



-t '^ M 




ANNE OF AUSTRIA 
After the portrait by S. Harding 



Marie Mancini 31 

to him the beauty of unselfishness. We must 
remember what Brienne said on the subject of 
the marriage: "If his Eminence sees in it secu- 
rity for himself." That security had disappeared 
with Marie's imprudence. She paid the pen- 
alty of her recklessness with the loss of a throne. 
Mazarin now turned completely around and 
wished to have the benefit of his conversion. 
He became inflexible: everything must be sacri- 
ficed to the welfare of the state and the dignity 
of the king. He took the attitude of a "hero 
who despised a crown," ^ gave himself heart 
and soul to furthering the Spanish marriage and 
breathed the incense due to virtue. Marie fought 
with desperation. It was the moment of her 
life when she was most interesting. 



V 



She had to depend on herself alone, as the 
whole family trembled at the thought that the 
cardinal might fall; she had no other arms than 
her keen mind and her peculiar fascination. 
She had grown prettier; her lips were very red, 
her teeth very white, her hair very black, and 
her complexion less sallow. She was, however, 
as yet, no beauty. Her nose was clumsy; her 
mouth and eyes, almost out of drawing, turned 
upward at the corners ; her cheeks were too heavy, 

1 Memoirs of Choisy. 



32 Princesses and Court Ladies 

giving her a somewhat common appearance. 
But all that mattered so little! With a beauti- 
ful face could she have had greater power ? This 
singular power, to which others beside Louis XIV 
submitted, consisted in a sort of voluptuous fas- 
cination which deprived men of their reason and 
made of them her captives. Luckily for them, 
she was as capricious as alluring; this sorceress 
could never, long, follow one idea. 

She was never accused of intrigue or perfidy. 
She went her way, breaking down all obstacles. 
She treated Anne of Austria, who opposed her, 
with the greatest insolence. She would follow 
the king even to his mother's chamber, whisper- 
ing in his ear the gossip and calumnies of which 
the queen was the victim. Under her influence, 
the most respectful of sons became insolent. One 
day when, as he refused to obey her, Anne men- 
aced to take refuge at the Val-de-Grace, he an- 
swered ' ' that she might go. " The cardinal brought 
about a reconciliation.^ 

Marie defied her uncle so outrageously that his 
last scruples abandoned him; she tried to blacken 
the Infanta of Spain to the king. Whoever 
spoke in favour of this princess incurred the hatred 
of this terrible girl ; a Spanish lady, for this crime, 
was driven from the Louvre. 

The king was bound to her so securely that, 
even during his absence, he felt her tyranny; she 
was determined that, at any cost, the events of 

' Memoirs of Mademoiselle de Montpensier. 



Marie Mancini 33 

Lyons should not be repeated. What remained 
of common sense in the young prince's brain was 
drowned in a torrent of passion. Burning vows, 
savage anger, loving and caressing words, — he 
knew them all, enjoyed them all, and lived in a 
state of perpetual intoxication. He was no 
longer his own master; he belonged to a pair of 
black eyes v/hich looked into his at all hours of 
the day, at meals, during the walks, at the card 
table, in the ballroom, in all the nooks and cor- 
ners of the palace; these eyes, full of dangerous 
fire, were seconded by the murmur of a voice 
both tender and tragic. 

It has been said that, in all this wild passion, 
there was no love; that both he and she were 
incapable of loving, for his heart was hard and 
full of himself, whereas she, in spite of all her 
ardour, carried her heart in her brain ; that each 
deceived the other, being meanwhile deceived, 
taking the appearance of love for love itself. 

It would be a bold thing to assert that all this 
wild passion was mere comedy with Marie Man- 
cini, mere sensuality with Louis XIV. There are 
many kinds of love, even when the heart has but 
little part in it: love through reason or instinct; 
out of interest, duty, vanity, habit; with the 
whole soul or with the whole body; and after a 
hundred other fashions, too numerous to mention. 
Those feelings which spring from inferior sources 
bear the stigma of their origin. They, neverthe- 
less, are genuine, and we should bless them, for 



34 Princesses and Court Ladies 

do they not fill the emptiness of many hearts? 
We think we love, and yet our love is but a form 
of our egotism, of routine, or of a coarse impulse. 
Nature has willed this deceit, lest we should dis- 
cover at twenty that we are incapable of love, 
for that would be sad indeed. During a whole 
year Louis XIV and Marie Mancini really believed 
that they loved wildly enough to die of their pas- 
sion. Let no one despise a feeling capable of 
giving so precious an illusion. 

Meanwhile, during the winter and spring of 
1659, the negotiations with Spain had been going 
on. Things were in the state we have seen, when 
Mazarin prepared to leave for Saint -Jean-de-Luz, 
where he was to meet the Spanish minister, Don 
Luis de Harp. A hundred times a day, the king 
and Marie swore eternal and reciprocal fidelity. 
Anne of Austria, at last, understood that this 
state of things could not continue and that she 
must get rid of Marie before pledging her son to 
the Infanta. The cardinal alone could help her 
in this dilemma, and she was by no means sure 
that he would be willing to do so. He was un- 
kind to her, rough, making fun of her, keeping 
the purse strings tightly in his own grasp, speak- 
ing of her to the king in no measured terms. The 
queen confided to her intimate friends that "the 
cardinal was so cross and stingy that there was 
no living with him."^ She was losing her illu- 
sions with regard to her handsome, perfumed 

* Memoirs of Madame de Motteville. 



Marie Mancini 35 

favourite, with his coquettish moustaches. The 
convictions that his inspirations were low, that he 
was nothing but a parvenu, had not yet entered 
her mind, but the thought hovered not very far 
away. 

Great was her dehght, extreme her gratitude 
and admiration, when, at the first word she ven- 
tured to stammer on the necessity of separating 
the lovers, she found his Eminence as eager as 
herself to exile Marie. Mazarin played his part 
like the great actor that he really was. The 
queen never suspected his sincerity. Her eyes 
once more were blinded; she reproached herself 
for having doubted his love of the public weal, 
and made up for it by great praise, leaving to 
him all the honour of his patriotic abnegation. 
They agreed that Marie Mancini should be sent 
to the castle of Brouage, near La Rochelle. 

One can imagine the thunderbolt. The king's 
sorrow at first was wild enough. He wept, but 
he listened to his mother. When he saw Marie, 
however, when he witnessed her despair, listened 
to her sobs, her bitter reproaches, her heart- 
rending wailings, his sorrow almost equalled her 
own. He rushed into the presence of the queen 
and the cardinal, crying out that it was impossible 
for him to see Marie ' ' suffer for love of him " ; * 
that he would marry her, that he begged and 
prayed of them to consent. He threw himself 
on his knees ^ and showed a grief so genuine that 

1 Motteville. ^ Montpensier. 



3^ Princesses and Court Ladies 

his mother was greatly moved. Mazarin re- 
mained firm and answered "that he was master 
of his niece and that he would stab her rather 
than consent to so great an act of treason."* 
The king's tears flowed anew; he vowed that he 
would marry no other woman; nevertheless, he 
allowed things to follow their course. As to 
Marie, her despair was deep and savage. 

" Elle n'entend ni pleurs, ni conseil, ni raison, 
Elle implore a grands cris le fer et le poison." 

Thus, Racine shows us Berenice exiled from 
Rome by Titus; so also appeared, to the eyes of 
the court and of France, the passionate Mancini 
driven from Paris. Every one knows that Ra- 
cine's play is supposed to be the poetical trans- 
lation of the amorous drama which ended at 
Brouage.^ The tragedy of " Berenice " is usually 
called elegiac; the "gentle Racine" shows here 
that he can be strong even to brutality. No 
mistress abandoned by her lover could utter 
more terrible imprecations than did Berenice. 
She uses magnificent verse, but the sentim.ents 
expressed are as violent, for example, as those of 
Daudet's Sapho. Those who wish to understand 
Marie Mancini should reperuse Racine's passion- 



1 Motteville. 

^ M. Felix H6mon, in his excellent work: " ThdStre de Pierre 
Comeille " (Delagrave) gives interesting details as to the origin of 
Racine's Berenice and as to " Tite et Bdr^nice of Comeille." 



Marie Mancini 37 

ate and powerful scenes from the moment when 
Berenice exclaims wildly : 

" He ! bien, il est done vrai que Titus m'abandonne ! 
II faut nous separer ! et c'est lui qui I'ordonne !" 

The dialogue which follows is admirably true to 
nature. No poet ever noted with more subtlety 
the various feelings of a woman abandoned by 
the man she loves; this is easy to understand: 
Racine did but follow step by step the story of 
Louis XIV and Marie Mancini, as all their contem- 
poraries followed it, as these have told it in their 
memoirs. 

Berenice begins by reproaching Titus with his 
treachery. Why should he have encouraged her 
hopes if he did not mean to marry her ? Why did 
he not say to her : 

"Ne donne point un coeur qu'on ne peut recevoir "? 

After the reproaches, when she sees her lover 
moved, comes the expression of her tenderness: 

"Ah, Seigneur! s'il est vrai, pourquoi nous separer?" 

When he refuses to yield, she threatens to kill 
herself, rushes away, comes back when she dis- 
covers that Titus does not follow her, and bursts 
into violent upbraidings : 

"... Pourquoi vous montrer k ma vue? 
Pourquoi venir encore aigrir mon d^sespoir? " 
N'etes-vous pas content? Je ne veux plus vous voir." 



38 Princesses and Court Ladies 

From anger, she then passes to irony: 

"Etes-vous pleinement content de votre glorie? 
Aves-vous bien promis d'oublier ma memoire? " 

B^r^nice, after more reproaches, lets herself 
fall on a chair. Daudet's Sapho rolls on the floor: 
this is a mere question of education. With both, 
it is the final nervous crisis, to which Marie Man- 
cini will also be subjected. 

In many a book and play, since Racine, we 
have seen a man break with his mistress. No- 
where have we encountered a more - passionate 
and clinging mistress than Berenice. A little 
later, we shall examine the sudden change of the 
fifth act, when B^r^nice gives up the struggle. 
The episode which furnished Racine with his 
concluding scenes took place at Brouage, Sep- 
tember, 1659. For the moment, we are still at 
the Louvre, June 2 2d. Marie Mancini has not 
yet exhausted all her furious anger. 

It was excessive, like all which came from 
that volcano. The king, beside himself, wept 
and cried out with her, renewed his vows, yet, 
still weeping, conducted her to the travelling 
coach. The celebrated exclamation uttered at 
parting is the only one which Racine weakened 
when he said : 

" Vous etes empereur, Seigneur, et vous pleurez!" 

Madame de Motteville and Madame de La 
Fayette both give the same version of Marie's 



Marie Mancini 39 

words, "You weep — and you are the master!" 
which is much stronger. But the truth is stronger 
still. In her Memoirs, Marie gives her own words 
as these, " 'Sire, you are king and you love me, 
why do you let me go?' . . . Upon which, as 
he was silent, I tore his lace ruffle, saying, 'Ah, 
I am forsaken! '" 

Here we have the real Marie Mancini. When 
she sees that all is over, that the king allows 
her to leave him, she clutches hold of him, tears 
his lace furiously and exclaims: "Ah! I am for- 
saken!" She recalls Sapho even more than 
Berenice. 

VI 

This stormy departure provoked other storms. 
The king, like a madman, rushed off to Chantilly, 
where his sorrow, instead of diminishing, turned 
to a veritable paroxysm. He had had the courage 
to let Mademoiselle Mancini leave him : dimisit in- 
vitus invitam; yet it seemed to him impossible to 
live without her. As to Marie, she was a pitiable 
object. She was ill, half fainting, fever seized her, 
she was worn out. When the cardinal met her on 
the road to Brouage, having himself started for 
Saint- Jean-de-Luz, he wrote to the queen,^ "Her 
grief exceeds my power to describe it." Many 
years later, she herself could not find words strong 
enough to express this immense despair: "Never, 

* Letter of June 29, 1659. 



40 Princesses and Court Ladies 

in all my life, have I felt my soul more harrowed. 
The worst torments seem but trifles compared 
with so cruel an absence, with the vanishing of 
hopes so tender and so high. I longed for death 
as the only possible end of my woes. I was in a 
state so dreadful that nothing I can say would 
ever picture it." ^ 

In the midst of this anguish, Marie made use of 
a childish feint, which, however, succeeded. She 
pretended that she was resigned. Her uncle 
allowed himself to be deceived and announced 
this good news to the queen, ' ' She assures me that 
she is submissive and that she surrenders herself 
to me." So praiseworthy a conduct called for a 
reward. It came in the person of a musketeer. 
"He brought me," says Marie, "five letters from 
the king, very long and very tender. ' ' The cardinal 
was generous enough to allow the messenger to 
take back an answer, and a regular correspondence 
was established, which, unfortunately, we do not 
possess, but at which we can guess by the effect 
produced. On June 29th the king wrote to his 
mother a dutiful and respectful letter in which he 
said that "he appreciated the motives of her re- 
sistance."^ Fifteen days later, the cardinal, 
about to enter Saint- Jean-de-Luz, received such 
news of the relations between mother and son 
that he wrote to the former : " I fear that I shall 
go out of my mind ; I can neither eat nor sleep ; 
I am overwhelmed with anxiety and sorrow." 

* Apologie. * Memoirs of Madame de Motteville. 



Marie Mancini 41 

(Cadillac, July i6th, 1659.) The same courier 
took a long letter to the king which reflects the 
situation as in a mirror : 

' ' I have seen what the confidante ^ writes about 
your sorrow and how you treat her. . . . 

"The letters from Paris, Flanders, and other 
places, assert that, since my departure, you are 
terribly changed, not on account of me but on 
account of some one who belongs to me, that you 
have made promises which keep you from giving 
peace to all Christendom. . . . 

"It is said (and this is confirmed by letters ad- 
dressed from the court to persons of my suite) . . . 
that you shut yourself up continually to write to 
the person 3^ou love, that in that way you lose 
more time than you used to do conversing with 
her when she was still at court. . . . 

"It is said that you have quarrelled with the 
queen, whom you avoid as much as possible." 

He reproached the king with encouraging his 
niece's revolt by promising to marry her; he pic- 
tured the results of such a deed: a rupture with 
Spain; war, and a third Fronde; he threatened to 
retire to Italy, taking his niece with him, if his 
young master did not give up a passion which had 
become the derision of all Europe. He repeated 
his supplications, sending letter after letter, and 
was terror-stricken when he learned that Louis XIV 
was determined to see Marie once more, at the very 
time when he was expected in the Pyrenees for his 

* Term used to designate the queen ; the king was the confident. 



42 Princesses and Court Ladies 

marriage with the Infanta. But letters and sup- 
phcations were of no avail. Thanks to the weak- 
ness of Anne of Austria, the interview took place 
at Saint -Jean-d'Ang61y, on the loth of August. 
The love ecstasies were touching, the farewell 
accompanied by gentle tears only, for the lovers 
swore eternal constancy. 

They agreed to lay siege to the cardinal, to per- 
suade him of his niece's tender love for him. 
Marie wrote many letters to her uncle, but a Maza- 
rin is not twice hoodwinked by a little girl. He 
wrote to Madame de Venel, her governess : 

"My niece has taken a fancy to write to me 
oftener than is needful. I beg you to insist that 
she should not give herself so much trouble. I 
know what is in her mind and heart ; I also know 
what to think of her affection for me." 

To the king, he wrote: 

"I begin by answering what you say in your 
letter of the 23d (August) about the tenderness of 
a certain person toward me, and about all the 
other pretty things you say of her. 

"I am by no means surprised that you should 
speak thus, for it is your passion which blinds you; 
otherwise you would agree with me that this 
person is by no means fond of me, but rather hates 
me, because I do not favour her wild folly ; that she 
is eaten up with ambition, has a distorted and 
violent nature, no dignity in her conduct, and that 
she is ready to commit a thousand absurdities; 
that she is madder than ever since she had the 



Marie Mancini 43 

honour of seeing you at Saint- Jean-d'Angely and 
that, instead of two letters a week, she now 
receives one from you every day ; before long, you 
will acknowledge that she has a thousand weak- 
nesses and not one quality that justifies your good 
will toward her." 

He filled eighteen pages with much the same 
matter and renewed his menace of retiring to 
Italy. The king's answer reached him on the ist 
of September. It was short. The king wrote 
* ' that the cardinal must do as he chose and that if 
he gave up public affairs, others would gladly take 
charge of them." ^ On the receipt of this note, 
Mazarin was bound to recognise that his mad niece 
with her "distorted nature" was an adversary 
worthy of his steel. 

She had done wonders in her sorry exile of 
Brouage. She had not lost a day. According 
to the family custom, she had called in an astrolo- 
ger to know what chances she had of winning the 
crown. This astrologer was an Arab. He drew 
up all manner of horoscopes and took care that 
they shotild be favourable. He, besides, gave her 
lessons in his art so that she might, unaided, peep 
into the future. The Arab strengthened her belief 
in herself, and we know that faith can move 
mountains. 

She was penniless, closely watched, surrounded 
with spies: She persuaded the spies that she was 
their future queen, and they devoted themselves 

* Memoirs of Choisy. 



44 Princesses and Court Ladies 

to her, body and soul. Money flowed in. This 
money secured the services of unscrupulous per- 
sons, ready for any adventure: among these was 
her brother, whom their uncle, on account of his 
scandalous debauchery, had cast into prison; she 
set him free. Her star was in the ascendant, and 
Mazarin, on the verge of the precipice, was aware 
that Marie would never forgive the exile of 
Brouage : ' ' since his departure, she vowed that she 
hated him more than ever." ^ Despair had well 
nigh taken possession of him. He still struggled, 
but feebly, and without Anne of Austria he might 
have succumbed. The queen's letters were his 
consolation and his stay. They were full of affec- 
tion and devotion. She considered it so magnan- 
imous of her handsome Mazarin to have given 
up the throne for his niece, that she was his, more 
than ever. On the other hand, his danger had 
very opportunely revived the cardinal's somno- 
lent passion, so that their correspondence was a 
veritable love duet. 

The other nieces, the court, all Europe, followed 
with impatient curiosity and varying emotions 
this duel between the all-powerful cardinal and a 
mere girl. The Mazarines trembled. These bold 
parvenues had not forgotten the days when the 
Paris rabble, seeing them enter the Louvre, called 
out against the "little fish -monger s. " In their 
palaces, surrounded by a court more brilliant than 
that of the king, they knew that their uncle's 

1 Memoirs of Madame de Motteville. 



Marie Mancini 45 

disgrace would be, for them, the stroke of the 
wand that changes castles into huts and rich 
garments into rags; their terror was great. The 
Ahh6 Choisy relates that they already saw them- 
selves tumbled back into poverty. They were by 
no means reassured by the fact that the cardinal's 
power was threatened by one of themselves, and 
in that they were right. The Mazarines could not 
depend much on family affections. 

The court was divided between the horror of 
such a deplorable marriage and the hope of being 
rid of the cardinal. It is a curious fact that 
Mazarin, who was not ill-natured, should have 
inspired more antipathy among the nobles than 
Richelieu, so relentless in his dealings with them. 
On that point we can believe Saint-Simon, who 
never betrayed his caste. ' ' Cardinal Richelieu, " says 
he in his Memoirs ^ " little by little destroyed that 
power and authority of the great which balanced 
and even over-shadowed that of the king; by 
degrees, he reduced them to the degree of honour, 
of distinction, consideration, and authority alone 
due to them ; they were no longer permitted to act 
or to speak loudly in the king's presence, and he 
was soon in a position to fear nothing from them. 
This was the result of acts wisely and uninter- 
ruptedly directed toward one goal." 

In the same page, Saint-Simon denounces 
Mazarin to the execration of posterity for "the 
lies, the baseness, the treachery, the terrors and 

'■ Volume xi, p. 244 (Hachette). 



46 Princesses and Court Ladies 

the spropositi ^ of his government, as avaricious as 
it was cowardly and tyrannical, the consequences 
of which were, first the Fronde, and then the ruin 
and complete debasement of the French nobility, 
despoiled of all posts, distinctions, and dignities, in 
favour of the lower orders, so that the greatest 
noble is powerless and depends in a thousand ways 
on some vile burgher." Richelieu decapitated 
the nobles; Mazarin slyly degraded them. The 
first has been forgiven ; the second never will be. 

The country, like the tow^n, was divided. Europe 
laughed, with the exception of Spain, who had 
offered the Infanta and felt the humiliation of a 
refusal. 

Things were in this state, and the cardinal, hav- 
ing learnt humility, wrote to the king, ' ' I feel such 
profound veneration and respect for your person 
and for all that emanates from you, that I could 
not take upon myself to dispute with you. On 
the contrary, I am willing to submit to your wishes 
and to declare that you are right, in all things." 

Suddenly everything was changed by a dram- 
atic turn of events, singular, yet natural. B6r^- 
nice, as portrayed by Racine and by Comeille also, 
gives up Titus, at the fifth act, out of pure heroism ; 
she sacrifices herself to the nation. Poetry has en- 
nobled history, which is not the same thing as 
betraying it. At Brouage, Marie Mancini learned 
that the clauses of the Spanish marriage had been 
agreed upon. Not knowing that her uncle was on 

* Foolish talk, things said out of season. 




MARIA THERESA 
From an old copper engraving 



Marie Mancini 47 

the point of capitulating and of yielding to the 
king 's desires, she thought herself lost at the very 
moment when victory was perhaps within her 
grasp. Wounded pride prompted her to break of 
her own free will ; anger helped her decision. Un- 
stable as she was, she was relieved by this change, 
after her long obstinacy, so contrary to her nature. 
This heroic resolution would be sure to secure for 
her praise and yet more solid compensations. She 
wrote to Mazarin that she gave up the king. Once 
this determination taken, the all-consuming pas- 
sion which was to have been unique in the annals of 
love, suddenly ceased to consume her. It would 
be an error to think that Marie Mancini did not 
love the king. Only, as has been said, the heart, 
with her, was placed in the brain. 

She was too clever not to understand that the 
last act of the drama might seem to turn short and 
would spoil the play in the eyes of the world. She 
took pains to arrange it in the Apologie, where 
she represents herself as refusing with indignation 
the proposals of marriage made by the conn^table 
Colonna, soon after the great sacrifice. She for- 
gets to mention that she made use of the messenger 
to suggest to her uncle another admirer, whose 
image flattered her unoccupied imagination. 

The astounding news flew, lightning-like, and 
excited varied comments. Mazarin, wild with 
joy, could scarcely believe his senses, and suddenly 
discovered that he quite adored this niece whom, 
just before, he had dubbed a dangerous maniac. 



48 Princesses and Court Ladies 

His heart overflowed with love and admiration: 
compliments, protestations, and delicate attentions 
were showered upon her. He went so far as to 
open his purse: nothing better can prove how 
terrified he had been. ' ' I have ordered Teron, ' ' he 
writes to Madame de Venel, ' ' to give all needf til 
money so that she (Marie) should have every sort 
of pleasure. Pray give orders that her table be 
lavishly supplied." He promises his dear Marie 
to find her a husband. He wishes her to be happy 
and he will do all in his power to further that end. 
Meanwhile, he bids her amuse herself, hunt, fish, 
eat good dinners (the cardinal knew how to appre- 
ciate dainty living; thanks to him, France was 
blessed with several new sauces), read Seneca. 
' ' And, since she has a taste for books on morality, 
tell her from me that she should read treatises of 
philosophy, especially the works of Seneca, wherein 
she will find much consolation and many things 
which will confirm her in her new resolution." 
Anne of Austria, by a reflex movement, basked 
in the sunshine of her minister's joy. Philemon 
and Baucis feel youth surge anew in their veins, 
and exchange tender declarations. "I confess," 
writes Mazarin to the queen, ' ' that my patience is 
greatly tried at being kept here and thus deprived 
of your love." (Saint- Jean-de-Luz, September 
14th, 1659.) More touching still is the passage on 
his gout which prevents him from joining her : " As 
much as possible I keep secret the hope of seeing 
you here ; if my gout were to guess such a thing, it 



Marie Mancini 49 

would take malicious pleasure and pride in torment- 
ing me, so as to boast of such a victory as, till 
now, no fit of gout ever knew." Trissotin could 
not have said this in more gallant terms, and the 
couplet on the gout is a fit set-ofi to the Sonnet sur 
la fievre qui tient la princesse Uranie. 

Out of spite at having been so unexpectedly 
abandoned, the king became at once enamoured 
of the Infanta. Besides, he had meditated on the 
threat of the cardinal to leave him in the lurch, and 
he knew that such a position would be singularly 
embarrassing. He was weary of being in leading 
strings, yet he did not feel equal to walking without 
them. He knew nothing of public affairs. Peace 
had not yet been signed; and the scandalous con- 
tempt shown the Infanta in marrying an obscure 
girl would inevitably have opened hostilities once 
more. He had heard it said (and it was true) 
that ' * his revenues were absorbed for two or three 
years in advance," ^ Thanks to all these good 
reasons, it was with the greatest possible alacrity 
that he married the Spanish princess, June 6th, 
t66o. 

VII 

The hope of being queen had, for a time, given 
to Marie Mancini, to her feelings and conversation, 
a sort of inflation that might have passed muster 
as nobility. But as this sort of dignity was not 

* Memoirs of Choisy. 



50 Princesses and Court Ladies 

genuine, it disappeared with her dream. The 
romantic heroine vanished; the adventuress alone 
remained. The cardinal had scarcely authorised 
her to return to Paris before she began with 
Prince Charles of Lorraine a second romance, more 
fiery even than the first. An Italian abbe served 
as go-between. Meetings were frequent in churches 
and parks. All this took on an appearance of 
most displeasing intrigue, but Marie could never 
keep within bounds. Her passion drove her mad. 
She must have her Lorraine. She swore a hundred 
times that if she were not allowed to marry him, 
she would enter a convent.* Never had she 
made such a threat when she was in love with the 
king; this he never forgot or forgave. 

Prince Charles was completely fascinated. His 
head, as had been the case with the king's, whirled 
in the presence of this southern enchantress. 

The court returned in the very midst of this 
wild romance, bringing back the new queen, Marie- 
Therese. During, the journe}^ the king had accom- 
plished the only act of sentiment which can be 
attributed to him. He left his young wife at 
Saintes so as to go ''in a post-chaise to visit 
Brouage and La Rochelle,"^ sacred spots, which 
had witnessed the passion and sufferings of the 
beloved one. This would have been poetical and 
touching if Marie, as he was convinced, had been 
spoiling her eyes by over-weeping; it was only 

* Memoirs of the Marquis de Beauveau. 
' Memoirs of Monsieur de Montpensier. 




PRINCE CHARLES OF LORRAINE 
From an old copper print 



Marie Mancini 51 

ridiculous in case she had dried them. When he 
reached Fontainebleau, the king learned the truth. 
Another had taken his place. He — forgotten 
for another! Few men can admit such a thing. 
Louis XIV never could, not so much from vanity 
as from faith in the monarchy. Alone on the 
throne, alone in the heart ; both these things seemed 
to him the attributes of divine right. Marie 
Mancini grown faithless was lost, and forever. 
He could not understand that the king of France 
should be exposed to the misadventures of common 
lovers, and he was right; he knew his business as 
monarch. 

Marie Mancini, in her Apologie, carefully avoids 
any mention of her passion for the Prince of 
Lorraine. Her love for Louis XIV gave her in 
the eyes of the world and of posterity such lustre, 
that, in order to keep it undimmed, a little lying 
seemed but a venial fault. As long as she pos- 
sibly could, she kept her attitude of forsaken 
Ariadne ; the Memoirs of her sister Hortense * tell 
us of her despair when she saw the king as a 
married man. Who knows if, spite coming to the 
rescue, she was not sincerely jealous of the king, 
even while she adored her prince ? It would have 
been very feminine. However that may be, this 
is her own account of her first meeting with the 
king after his return: 

''The court reached Fontainebleau and the 
cardinal ordered us to pay our respects to the new 

^ Memoirs of the Duchess of Mazarin. 



52 Princesses and Court Ladies 

queen. I foresaw all that this would cost me and 
it was not without anguish that I accepted it; 
the presence of the king was sure to open a wound, 
scarcely healed, and to which it would have been 
wiser to apply the remedy of absence. However, 
as I had not imagined that the king could receive 
me with the cold indifference he displayed, I own 
that I was so overwhelmed with sorrow that no 
event of my life was as cruel as this change in his 
manner. I begged to be allowed to return to 
Paris." 

The king carried his ' ' cruelty ' ' to the extent of 
praising the young queen to her. "This was too 
much for a creature so full of passion and violence. 
She burst into a torrent of reproaches. "... " My 
impatient wish for an explanation . . . caused 
me two or three times to speak in private to his 
Majesty, but he received my complaints so coldly 
that, from that moment, I vowed never more to 
bewail my fate, and to crush my heart rather than 
to allow it to grieve, after so much indifference." 

All went wrong with her. Once the king married, 
her uncle forgot his promises and she ceased to be 
his darling niece whom he flattered and praised. 
Mazarin remembered her only to order her 
governess in future to take better care of her 
charge, and he pitilessly refused her hand to the 
Prince of Lorraine. This young man took his 
heart elsewhere, so that poor Marie was in the 
rather ridiculous position of being at the same 
time jealous of her two faithless swains. She 



Marie Mancini S3 

carried off the situation with spirit, but found it 
hard to bear. For the time being, all who depended 
on Mazarin complained of him. The glory of the 
Pyrenees treaty and the security which came of it 
quite turned his head. Two months before 
Charles II became king of England, he had asked 
for the hand of Hortense, which the cardinal had 
refused ; now, in vain, he sought to mend matters. 
Gout and gravel, from which he suffered greatly, 
soured his temper and made him more avaricious 
than ever ; he deprived the young queen of nearly 
all her New-Year gifts, granting her only ten thou- 
sand livres out of twelve thousand crowns, and 
spent his time weighing his gold pieces so as to 
give her all that were under -weight. He could 
no longer control his brutal temper and treated 
Anne of Austria "as if she had been a servant." 
Death found him gloating over his gold and 
scolding. He saw his end approach, however, 
with a courage no one expected of him. He 
divided his fortune and saw to the future of his 
two nieces, Hortense and Marie. The former 
married the Duke of La Meilleraye, who took the 
name of Mazarin. Marie was given to the Conne- 
table Colonna. She, who still adored her faithless 
Prince of Lorraine, felt "a despair so violent that 
she could not refrain from reproaching the king 
for his weakness, and the cardinal for the outrage 
he committed in thus sacrificing her affections and 
her person." ^ If the king, as has been said, felt 
at that moment a slight return of his old passion, 

^ Memoirs of Beauveau. 



54 Princesses and Court Ladies 

he was forever cured by reproaches, so mortifying 
to his pride. It was too much to claim the Lor- 
raine of him. He showed himself freezingly cold 
toward the faithless one. 

Mazarin died on the 9 th of March, 1661. His 
family, with touching unanimity, exclaimed: 
''Pure e crepatol" (At last he has given up the 
ghost!) Such was the emotion shown at the death 
of a man who had drawn his relatives out of 
nothingness to set them on a pinnacle. The 
people gave the same deep sigh of relief as the 
family, but with greater cause. 

Soon after the cardinal's death, the king, by 
proxy, concluded the marriage of Mademoiselle 
Mancini with the connetable Colonna, who had 
remained in Italy; the bride was sent to her 
husband. "She had the sorrow," says Madame de 
La Fayette, "to see herself exiled from France 
by the king. . . . She bore herself with dignity 
and haughtiness; but at her first halt, after her 
departure from Paris, she was so crushed by her 
despair, so overwrought by the violence she had 
exerted over herself to hide her feelings, that she 
nearly died." Only she did not die, and reached 
Milan where the connetable, a handsome man and 
an honest one, met her. He, in his turn, drank of 
the philter this sorceress presented to him and, like 
the others, lost his wits. She showed him nothing 
but aversion, ill -temper, and caprices. He made 
of her a sort of fairy queen and surrounded her 
with luxury and a hundred festivities given in her 



Marie Mancini SS 

honour ; he showed himself ' 'gallant and was always 
superbly dressed." * He showered on her "all the 
attentions and kindnesses that it was possible to 
imagine ; " ^ was patience itself with her rebuffs 
and caprices. One fine day he replaced the 
Prince of Lorraine in the heart of his wife, with the 
rapidity and violence she always showed in like 
matters. 

' ' They were happy and had a great many chil- 
dren." Thus end all pretty fairytales; but this 
is a real story, and it ends very differently. 

The first years, indeed, recalled the fairy tale. 
Children came, a great many children, and the 
conndtable only prayed that his happiness might 
continue. His weakness toward his wife was 
boundless; her wishes were his law. When her 
first child was bom, Madame Colonna was visited 
by the Sacred College. She judged it appropriate 
to receive the cardinals in a bed shaped like a shell 
in which she represented Venus. "It was," says 
she, " a sort of shell that seemed to float on the sea ; 
it was so well represented, with the lower part of 
the bedstead forming waves, that it seemed real. 
It was supported by four sea horses mounted by 
sirens, all so beautifully carved and gilded that all 
thought they were made of gold. Ten or twelve 
cupids amorously held the curtains, which were of 
gold brocade, hanging loosely so as to show only 
what deserved to be seen; they were more for 
ornament than use." 

» Apologie. ' Ibid. 



S6 Princesses and Court Ladies 

As soon as she had left her theatrical couch, 
Venus deigned to take part in merely human 
pleasures. Games, balls, banquets, tournaments, 
journeys to Venice and Milan, cavalcades and 
boating, concerts and plays, succeeded each other 
endlessly, so much so that it is a marvel that one 
could take so much pleasure without dying of 
ennui. As her fifth child nearly cost her her life, 
Marie signified to her husband that she refused 
to bring any more little Colonnas into the world. 
He loved her too much to rebel; after which, 
as was to be expected, he gave a bad example 
of conjugal infidelity. His wife was imprudent 
enough to exhibit her jealousy; more imprudent 
still in avenging herself. Once on that road, she 
went far. Her powers of seduction now gave 
themselves all license. No man could resist her, 
her conquests were innumerable. 

First came a cardinal, Flavio Chigi, ill-favoured, 
dark-skinned, with a round face and pop-eyes 
that always seemed ready to fall out of their 
sockets; but he was nephew to a pope, gay and 
dissolute. Madame Colonna caused him to play 
all sorts of antics. One day when he was expected 
to preside over some church assembly she carried 
him off in her coach "only half dressed," took 
him into the country and kept him till evening. 
Another time she found him in bed, ran away with 
his clothes, dressed herself as a cardinal, and vowed 
she would receive in his stead. Once, they spent a 
fortnight hunting and camping in the woods. 



Marie Mancini 57 

Then came the infamous Chevaher de Lorraine, 
exiled in spite of the tears of monsietir, brother to 
Louis XIV. Even in Rome, where Cardinal Chigi 
could, without exciting any indignation, preside 
over the congregations, the chevalier was black- 
balled. It was whispered that Madame la conne- 
table, in monsieur's name, had given him " a hunt- 
ing suit worth a thousand pistoles, covered with a 
quantity of ribbons, the most beautiful and 
expensive that could be found in Paris." ^ The 
"little fish-monger" of Rome could not resist the 
temptation of showing herself in her native town 
in company with so gorgeous a cavalier; the 
Chevalier de Lorraine was always at her side. 
The connetable became very angry. Fate had 
played him the trick of giving him a jealous nature 
and marrying him to a Mazarin. If he had chosen 
to see nothing when Cardinal Chigi was in attend- 
ance, he opened his eyes when the chevalier took 
his place and he stormed violently. '' But," con- 
tinues the Apologie, "I knew how to answer." 
The connetable sent a monk to reprove the guilty 
one. She took the monk by the shoulders and 
pushed him out of the room. Cardinal Chigi, 
jealous on his own account, preached to her. 
Thereupon they quarrelled. She became the talk 
of Rome, and the outraged, but still enamoured 
husband could but scold and hire numerous spies. 

Nature is very clever, as we know, in disguising 
the defects of a face with the charm of youth. It is 

* Apologie. 



58 Princesses and Court Ladies 

no less clever in hiding defects of character, thanks 
to the glamotir and fire of the twentieth year: so 
young a soul is nearly always lovable. Moral 
taints are brought to light with the revolving 
years, and inattentive observers wonder at the 
change. That change is only apparent; the ugly 
taint is not a new one. At the court of France, 
during her romance with Louis XIV, Marie Man- 
cini did not seem an adventuress ; her youth, with 
its brilliant and joyous seduction, deceived and 
entranced all who saw her. Less than ten years 
later, the real nature was revealed. The stories 
we still have to relate of her might be those of a 
circus rider. We shall speak of them as rapidly as 
possible. 

VIII 

A FRAGMENT ^ Written by the conndtable's wife 
will show into what a singular world she had 
fallen. ' ' Every day, the chevalier came to see me, 
and when the weather was favourable we went out 
together, choosing especially the banks of the 
Tiber, near the Porta del Popolo. I had even 
caused a bath house to be built there, so that I 
might plunge in the river. ^ ... It was not 

* Les M^moires de M.L.P.M.M. (Madame la princesse Marie 
Mancini, published at Cologne, 1676.) It is a confidential state- 
ment made to an intimate friend by Madame Colonna, more lively, 
less truthful, than the Apologie, and written in view of the public. 

^ In the Apologie, she describes the little house, but does not 
mention the purpose for which it was built. This detail indicates 
the difference between the two books. The Apologie was written 
to soften the effect produced by the Memoirs. 



Marie Mancini 59 

through love, as pretend my enemies, but out of 
mere gallantry that the chevalier, seeing me in the 
water up to my throat, begged to have my portrait 
painted in that state, as he had never seen so 
shapely a form nor so beautiful a face ; he vowed 
that Zenocrates would have fallen in love with my 
perfections." The husband, however, in his jeal- 
ousy, did not believe in the perfect propriety of all 
this bathing; mere calumny, his honourable wife 
informs us : " My servants can testify that I never 
left the cabin to step into the water without having 
donned a chemise of gauze which fell to my feet." 
The insupportable husband was not content with 
this transparent garment ; he complained of many 
other things likewise, and made himself so ex- 
tremely disagreeable that she concluded that the 
only thing to do was to run away from him. 

Her sister Hor tense had already left her lord. 
It is true that the Duke of Mazarin was a sort of 
maniac with whom life was impossible. The 
duchess had taken refuge in Rome, and as she was 
a woman of experience, having travelled many 
leagues in male attire, Madame Colonna begged 
her protection in her flight back to France. They 
left Rome, May 29, 1672, with men's clothes under 
their skirts, as though they had gone out for an 
airing. 

Their coach took them to Civita Vecchia, where 
a boat had been ordered to await them. They 
took off their feminine garments, sent back their 
coach, and walked up and down in the broiling 



6o Princesses and Court Ladies 

sun. The boat was nowhere to be seen, and they 
took refuge in a grove where they well-nigh died 
of fright, fatigue, and hunger. They had been 
twenty-four hours without food, and every 
moment fancied they heard the connetable's sol- 
diers pursuing them. Suddenly they perceived 
the gallop of a horse and thought the end had 
come. Hortense bravely cocked her pistols, de- 
termined to ' ' kill the first man who might present 
himself;" but her sister made a rather pitiable 
heroine. ' ' If my veins had been opened," she says, 
"not a drop of blood would have trickled from 
them. My hair stood on end, and I fell, half 
fainting, into the arms of my sister who, more 
accustomed to misfortune, was braver than I."^ 
Hortense, indeed, had known many a tight place. 
She had endured a siege in a convent, against her 
husband and sixty horsemen who had been forced 
to beat an ignominious retreat. She was doubt- 
less ashamed of a sister who, in spite of her pre- 
tensions, was nothing but a poor little woman. 

A servant was sent in search of the missing 
boat, found another, and they sailed away. This 
little vessel was manned by veritable pirates, and 
the nine days of navigation were full of emotions. 
Once out at sea, the ladies had to give up their 
gold, under penalty of being thrown overboard or 
left on a desert island. The same evening a Turk- 
ish privateer was espied, and night alone saved 

» Les M6moires de M.L.P.M.M. The story is told after the 
same fashion in the Memoirs and in the Apologie. 




HORTENSE MANCINI 
From an old copper print 



Marie Mancini 6i 

them from capture. The fugitives, it may be, 
regretted so interesting an adventure as that of 
entering a Turkish harem. Their husbands would 
have bought them back, and they would have 
had a few more reminiscences wherewith to enliven 
their old age. The next day there was a tempest. 
On reaching Marseilles, they were not allowed to 
enter the port, as Civita Vecchia was plague in- 
fested. They bought false passports and landed. 
They had scarcely had an hour's sleep in an inn 
when Captain Manechini, a terrible hravo em- 
ployed by the conne table, appeared before them. 
The Duke of Mazarin, on his side, had sent the no 
less terrible Captain Polastron to capture his wife. 
The two women escaped, stopping here or there 
whenever they thought themselves in safety, to 
snatch what pleasure was within their grasp. 
They were obliged to beg Madame de Grignan for 
help, and she sent them a little linen. Dodging 
their pursuers, Hortense barely escaped from Cap- 
tain Polastron by crossing the frontier. Marie 
pushed on to Paris. She was bent on seeing the 
king, on throwing herself at his feet, on — who 
knows ? — adding a second volume to her royal 
romance. 

The news that Marie Mancini had appeared in 
Provence, in men's clothes, without so much as a 
shift, produced a great stir at the court of France. 
When she was reported on her way to Paris, no 
one doubted her object, and the curiosity of the 
public was vastly excited. The king's rule was 



62 Princesses and Court Ladies 

never to be ungrateful toward a woman who had 
loved him, and his first impulse was to take 
Madame Colonna under his protection. On the 
other hand, he greatly respected the proprieties. 
He was even disposed to admire austerity, for it 
gave greater zest to his victories. Marie Mancini 
had not covered him with glory. Louis XIV was 
the last man in France to admire romantic adven- 
tures, and hers were particularly romantic. Then 
he felt very bitterly the fact that he had had suc- 
cessors; at court, many remembered his red and 
swollen eyes at the time when Mazarin refused to 
let him marry his niece. All this caused him to 
send a very cold answer to a letter in which 
Madame Colonna begged his permission to dwell 
in Paris. He advised her to shut herself up in a 
convent "in order to put an end to the scandal 
her departure from Rome had caused." ^ 

Marie argued from this letter that she must 
lose no time, that it was urgent for her to see the 
king, and she set out forthwith. The postmaster 
refused to let her have horses. A nobleman 
sent by Louis XIV was in hot pursuit. Somehow 
she procured horses and a vehicle, took to cross- 
roads, to rough fields also, upsetting, hiding, 
dodging, finally reaching Fontainebleau, where 
her pursuer caught up with her. It was Monsietir 
de La Gibertiere ; if he happened to possess any 
sense of humour, he must greatly have enjoyed 
the interview. 

* Apologie. 



Marie Mancini 6^ 

He did his best to persuade her to return to 
her husband, adding that the king regretted that 
he had granted her his protection; the only other 
alternative was a prolonged sojourn in a Grenoble 
convent. 

"This," she says, "was my answer: that I had 
not left my home with the intention of returning 
to it so soon; that mere caprice had not guided 
me, but good and solid reasons, which I could 
only divulge to the king in person; that I was 
certain of his fairness and justice as soon as he 
had heard me (I asked for nothing more), for he 
would then acknowledge that he had been misled 
in his appreciation of my conduct; . . . that, as 
to Grenoble, I was too weary to undertake such 
a journey; . . . that I would await his Majesty's 
answer, according to which I should then decide 
upon my conduct." Whereupon, she snatched 
up her guitar and began to play, thereby greatly 
disturbing Louis XIV's envoy. Evidently, 

Monsieur de La Gibertiere proceeded to expostu- 
late, for she had time to play him "several tunes" 
before, in sheer discouragement, he took his leave. 

What an adorable scene ! Madame Colonna, in 
an upper chamber of a poor inn at Fontainebleau, 
dressed in the cast-off garments of Madame de 
Grignan, with a guitar by way of baggage! A 
cicada under wintry breezes. 

The king sent her another messenger, the Duke 
of Crequi, who, in spite of himself, was touched at 
finding so much fallen grandeur in so woeful a 



64 Princesses and Court Ladies 

plight. He renewed the king's orders: she was 
not to see him; she was not to go to Paris. She 
felt that she must gain time and asked to be 
placed in a convent at Melun. This was granted; 
but she could not take it upon herself not to bewail 
her fate, not to insist on seeing the king who 
showed her "so little courtesy." Louis XIV at 
last, fearing some scandal, or that she might 
burst into his presence, in spite of his body-guard, 
ordered Colbert to put her in some convent at 
least sixty miles away. She could not yet believe 
that all was over between them. She wrote to 
Colbert : " I never thought to see what I see ; I can 
say no more, for I have less control over myself 
than you. Let it end. All I ask is to see the 
king once more before leaving for the last time, 
as I shall never return to Paris. Obtain for me 
this favour, Monseigneur, after which I will go 
even further than he wishes. ..." (Septem- 
ber 25, 1672.) Colbert did not answer. This was 
plain enough. Then she uttered this cry of 
despair: "It is not possible that the king . . . 
should, with me, begin to show himself pitiless "* 
This would be touching, could we forget the 
goggle-eyed cardinal and the Chevalier de Lor- 
raine. Louis XIV, very well informed as to her 
vagaries, remained relentless and sent, once more, 
Monsieur de La Giberti^re who escorted her to a 
convent at Reims. In her" Memoirs, she shows 
the extent of her disappointment : " I was deceived 

* Letter to Colbert, October i, 1672. 



Marie Mancini 6^ 

in all my hopes ; the king, on whom I had depended, 
treated me with great coldness, why, I cannot 
imagine." It is possible that she never understood 
the reason of this coldness. The absence of 
moral sense blunts the brightest wits. 



IX 

We have reached the last stages of degradation. 
The life of Marie now loses every vestige of dignity 
and self-respect. Her troubled brain, a perpetual 
disquiet, keeps her from resting an3nvhere. She 
spends her time running away from the different 
convents where the king or her husband imprisons 
her. She is to be met with on the high-roads of all 
Europe, in France, in Italy, in Germany, in Holland, 
in Spain. The letters of that period make fre- 
quent allusions to her. Madame de S^vigne writes 
to her daughter, November 24th, 1673, "Madame 
Colonna was discovered on the Rhine, in a boat-full 
of peasant women ; she was going I know not where 
in Germany." January 27th, 1680, Madame de Vil- 
lars, wife of the French ambassador to Madrid, 
says that she and her husband saw a veiled woman 
who made signs to them that she wished to speak 
to them alone. "Monsieur de Villars exclaimed: 
'It is Madame Colonna!' On which, I addressed 
some compliments to our visitor. But as that was 
not what she wanted, she went straight to her ob- 
ject." The "object" was that she had once more 



66 Princesses and Court Ladies 

run away and claimed the protection of France 
against her spouse. 

Nothing could persuade her that, if he saw her, 
Louis XIV would not at once fall at her feet, 
repentant and amorous. Her one goal, there- 
fore, was France. At last, the king, weary, sent 
orders that she was never to be allowed to cross 
the frontiers. 

Half the convents of Europe looked upon her 
with terror, for they were never sure of being free 
from her. Many had endured the infliction of 
her presence. We are accustomed to pity the 
wives and daughters whom paternal or conjugal 
tyranny condemned to the cloister, and certainly 
they were often fit objects of compassion. But 
I think it but fair to pity likewise the nuns ordered 
to receive and keep them. Their unwilling guests 
avenged themselves on the community. One 
should read in the Memoirs of the Duchess of 
Mazarin how she and an amiable marchioness, 
shut up by a jealous husband, put everything 
topsy-turvy in a monastery. They organised a 
chase in the nuns' dormitory, running full -tilt, 
followed by a pack of hounds, crying: "Tuyant! 
tuyant ! ' ' They put ink in the holy water founts 
and water in the beds. Hortense pretends that 
all this is "invented or exaggerated," but she 
adds, "We were watched and guarded; for the 
purpose, the oldest nuns were chosen as less 
likely to be corrupted; but, as we walked about 
all day long, they were soon worn out, until one 



Marie Mancini 67 

or two, having tried to run after us, twisted their 
ankles." 

Life was not easy in the convents that had the 
honour of harbouring the conn^table's fugitive 
wife. Sometimes she would make a hole in the 
wall and creep through ; or she would bewitch the 
door-keepers and, at night, go off carousing, 
which did not greatly add to the good renown of 
the establishment. ' ' Sometimes, ' ' relates Madame 
d'Aulnoy, speaking of a sojourn in Madrid, "she 
escaped in the evening with one of her women, 
and walked on the Prado, a white mantle on the 
head, enjoying many an amusing adventure. The 
women who frequent the Prado are not always 
reputable, but the most aristocratic of our ladies 
often mingle with them, when they think they 
will not be recognised."^ 

Marie played such mad pranks that it required 
strict orders from the nuncio, with threats of 
excommunication, to induce the convents to 
receive her. In one monastery of Madrid, the 
nuns, in despair, resolved to go in procession to 
the palace, so as to entreat the king to free them 
from Madame Colonna. His Majesty rejoiced at 
the thought of receiving them and of hearing them 
sing, "Libera nos, Domine, de la Conde stabile.'' 
They thought better of it and did not give him 
that unholy joy. 

The nuns were greatly disturbed by the visitors 
received by Madame Colonna. Many fine gentle- 

* M^moires de la cour d'Espagne. 



68 Princesses and Court Ladies 

men called upon her, and their gallantry was 
scarcely in keeping with the sanctity of the place. 
One of the most frequent of these visitors for 
Madame Colonna was her husband, that strange 
spouse, each year more enamoured, more faithless, 
and more jealous. "He went every day to visit 
her," says Madame d'Aulnoy: "I have seen him 
pay court to her, like a lover to his mistress." 
The passion with which she had inspired him was 
strong enough to make him forgive everything; 
all he asked was to take her back again. 

As everything with Marie Mancini was doomed 
to be strange, she grew beautiful when she was 
about forty. The ugly little gipsy, with her long, 
thin arms, was no longer either thin or dark- 
skinned. Her figure was fine, her bright eyes had 
grown soft and touching, her hair and teeth re- 
mained perfect. Her very lack of repose had its 
charm. The connetable, on his side, was still as 
handsome " as a picture ' ' ^ and he was madly in 
love; but the astrologers kept these two apart. 
Marie had once more had her horoscope drawn, 
and in it was said "that if she had another child 
she would die." Therefore, she would have no 
husband. Yet she had a lover, the ugliest man 
in Madrid. 

One fine day, like a madcap that she was, she 
ran to her husband's house. She had broken 
loose once more from her convent, and thought 
fit to try another sort of life. The connetable 

> Letters of Madame de Villars. 




N\ PRINCIPE ROMAN O 



hf Cental J J rmavf mB2fimo,Sonnm^cCa^inU(me - 
'-^cCitl:^ IlCfuusa rJtanmci;'Jiaronc<£Carsol'i 



J^ORENZ'ONOFRIO COLON 

T)taa di 'Taifhamuo, /c'JlarsictEinin 
Marcficsf JcT'Atar.ie'Ji CmSma-ContcdiKhtqu -. . 
, £;flk XjafTc Ji'Koulto, /iZafCornnt,(l(('Castef/c!rOLcro cfCai'mauro /effi Citta J'-'iylonc fcf]Sm-jio,£.\\mkc£y<,, 



THE CONNETABLE COLONNA 
After the portrait by Giacomo Bichi 



Marie Mancini 69 

received her very well, but shut the cage's door on 
the wild bird. She made a fine uproar, vowing that 
her husband wanted to take revenge "after the 
Italian fashion," that is, by poisoning her. The 
king, the queen, the ministers, the grand inquisitor, 
took the affair to heart; she stirred up the whole 
country. Some were for her, others against.' One 
night she was carried off, by her lord's orders, 
with but small ceremony; the ravishers dragged 
her, half naked, by the hair and threw her into a 
dungeon where she was only too happy to accept 
a solution which completed the masquerade of her 
life. The conn^table pledged himself to become 
a Knight of Malta if she consented to take 
the veil. She was all the more willing, as she had 
had some experience in breaking through convent 
walls. Madrid, with great edification, beheld her 
in a monastic habit. "Madame Colonna arrived 
on Saturday, early," writes Madame de Villars. 
"She entered the convent; the nuns received her 
at the door with tapers and all the ceremonies in 
use on such occasions. Thence, she was led into 
the choir where she took the habit (of a novice) 
with great modesty. . . . The costume is pretty 
and becoming, the convent agreeable." * 

Poor convent! if it had received the devil in 
person as penitent it would not have been in a 
worse plight. "Under her woollen garment, she 
wore skirts of gold and silver brocade ; as soon as 
she was free of the nuns, she threw off her veil 

' February i, 1681. 



70 Princesses and Court Ladies 

and dressed her hair after the fashion of Spain, 
with many coloured ribbons. When a bell an- 
nounced some function at which she was bound 
to assist . . . she threw on her habit and her 
veil so as to hide the ribbons and her thick hair; 
it was a perpetual comedy." ^ Disguised as a nun 
twenty times a day and as often throwing off 
that disguise, it was impossible that her voca- 
tion should be taken seriously. The husband, 
discouraged, and without the slightest desire to 
become a Knight of Malta, finally abandoned his 
wife. He went off to Rome; but he was guilty 
of leaving her penniless, in an attic, without a 
fire, lacking every decent comfort. From that 
moment, Marie disappears in darkness. Now 
and again a faint glimmer of light falls upon her; 
then, once more, she vanishes. 

In 1684, she is seen in France. In 1688, the 
French ambassador speaks of her as being in a 
small convent "where she is free to come and go." 
The following year she becomes a widow. In 
love, even to the last, "the conndtable, in his will, 
begs his wife's pardon . . . and for fear his chil- 
dren should harbour some anger toward their 
mother, he accuses himself, and endeavours to 
inspire them with respect, gratitude, and admira- 
tion for her."^ What an excellent husband! 
She rewarded this magnanimity by returning to 
Italy where, under her children's eyes, she lived 

* Mdmoires de la cour d'Espagne. 
' Saint-Evremond de. 



Marie Mancini 7^ 

after a most profligate fashion. She was Hearing 
her fiftieth year. A last ray of light falls upon 
her in 1705. "Madame Colonna," relates Saint 
Simon, " took it into her head to land in Provence, 
where she remained several months, without per- 
mission to draw nearer; at last it was granted 
her ... on condition that she should not enter 
Paris. She went to Passy. Outside of her family, 
she knew no one; . . . disgusted at having been 
so ill received, she went quickly back of her own 
accord." 

And in her family, what universal ruin! What 
a return to the original nothingness! The Prin- 
cess of Conti, the saint, was dead. Dead also the 
Duchess of Modena, leaving one son, weak men- 
tally and physically, soon to die. Dead, the 
beautiful Hortense, Duchess of Mazarin; her hus- 
band claimed her body, and carried it about with 
him. Olympe, Duchess of Soissons, compromised 
in the poisoning affair, had come away from a 
fete, in January, 1680, to throw herself into a 
coach, never stopping until she had crossed, for 
ever, the frontier of France. Marie-Anne, Duchess 
of Bouillon, implicated in the same affair, was ban- 
ished, recalled, then once more banished for ever 
from the court. The only brother had survived 
and amused himself with writing pretty verses; 
he could do nothing else. Pushing our investi- 
gations a little further, we find that the Mazarin 
blood, mixed with that of so many illustrious 
families, brought ill-luck with it to all. The 



7^ Princesses and Court Ladies 

houses of the d'Estes, of the Stuarts,^ of the Ven- 
domes,^ of the Contis, of the Bouillons, of the 
Soissons, died out, one after the other. 

And the treasures amassed by Mazarin, his 
millions, his old masters, his antique statues? 
The Duke of Mazarin, his heir, mutilated the 
statues with a hammer, smeared over the pic- 
tures, spent millions in law suits before all the 
courts of justice in France; so that, according to 
Monsieur Amed^e Renee's witty remark, "It was 
the Fronde that, after all, was Cardinal Mazarin's 
real heir. ' ' 

Marie Colonna saw these things, found that 
France was no longer ainusing, and plunged defi- 
nitely into oblivion. We do not know when she 
died, or where; probably in Italy or Spain, some- 
where about 17 15. She had become skilled in 
the occult sciences, which accorded well with her 
witch-like face. One can imagine her old, with 
her wild, unkempt hair, sordid in her dress, 
wrinkled, half -impotent. Of her lost splendour 
nothing remains but the fire of her black eyes. 
She tells fortunes and the future remains dark. 
She lives in the past. She takes her guitar, plays 
and muses. She dreams that once she barely 
missed being queen of France. 

1 The daughter of the Duchess of Modena married James II. 
^ Sons of the Duchess of Mercoeur. 




LOUIS XIV 
After a print by Nanteuil 



CHRISTINA OF SWEDEN 

In the character of Christina of Sweden, daugh- 
ter of the great Gustavus Adolphus, there was 
a mixture of strange brilHancy and of enig- 
matic romance. Her contemporaries did not 
know what to make of her. Few beings were 
ever during their lifetime more praised and more 
reviled. Pages might be filled with the mere 
titles of the odes, discourses, panegyrics, plays, 
in which Christina is exalted in prose and verse, 
in German, Italian, Latin, Swedish, and French. 
An equally long list could be composed of the 
pamphlets, memoirs, and epigrams in which she 
is dragged in the mud. Even now she is a 
puzzle; we find in her traits of grandeur and 
absurdity, of nobility and perversity. It is an 
open question whether she was sincere, or whether 
she threw dust in the eyes of all Europe. The 
perplexity increases when the comedy of her life 
turns to tragedy. 

Yet, light begins to dawn. Listening to Chris- 
tina herself through her letters, her diplomatic 
documents, her collections of maxims, her auto- 
biography and her marginal notes, we come to 
know her and, at the same time, to understand 
the contradictory judgments of her day. As this 

73 



74 Princesses and Court Ladies 

ambiguous figure reveals itself to us, we are moved 
by feelings equally ambiguous. We are amused 
and revolted, fascinated and disgusted. 



Christina was bom at Stockholm, December 
8, 1626, of Gustavus Adolphus and Mary Eleonore, 
daughter of the Elector of Brandenburg. A son 
had been predicted by the astrologers; dreams 
had confirmed the predictions of the stars, and 
the son was eagerly expected. When the child 
came into the world it seemed as though the stars 
and the occult powers had been only half mis- 
taken and that nature had really meant to fashion 
a boy. The child was so hairy, so dark, its voice 
was so rough and loud that it was thought a 
prince had been born. Unfortunately, it was 
but a tomboy of a girl, and such Christina 
remained all her life. Gustavus Adolphus was 
soon consoled ; not so the queen, who looked upon 
the black little creature in horror. She could not 
forgive her for being a girl, especially for being 
an ugly little girl. Christina insinuates in her 
autobiography ^ that her mother's aversion was 
answerable for the many accidents of her in- 

^ Life of Queen Christina, written by herself. Memoirs concern- 
ing Christina, published by Arckenholtz, librarian to the landgrave 
of Hesse-Cassel (Amsterdam and Leipzig, 4 vols., 1751-1760). The 
Memoirs contain most of the facts used by historians. Granert, in 
1857, added certain other facts to those related by Arckenholtz in 
his Christina, Konigein von Schweden und ihr Hof. 




QUEEN CHRISTINA OF SWEDEN 
From an old copper print 



Christina of Sweden 75 

fancy, and that it was a marvel that she came 
out of this dangerous period merely with one 
shoulder higher than the other. Nothing that 
we can learn of Mary Eleonore warrants such 
an accusation. 

The queen was eccentric and much given to 
tears, but she was not bad at heart. Gustavus 
Adolphus describes her in a word "without judg- 
ment." In point of fact, she was quite lacking 
in common sense. Her husband, however, was 
very much in love and easily forgave her stupidity 
and eternal weeping, because she was "beautiful 
and gentle." He loved her after the superior 
fashion of great men towards feminine idiots; he 
enjoyed seeing her gorgeously dressed, and never 
thought of confiding in her. He was in the right, 
for the queen adored him and was perfectly con- 
tented with her lot. She surrounded herself with 
dwarfs, buffoons, and people of low degree, and 
by way of occupation made lotions for the pres- 
ervation of her complexion. She was outside of 
everything, entirely ignorant of what went on 
in the world, and left to the mercy of her servants 
and their low intrigues. With her superstitions, 
her old-time notions, her barbarous court of mis- 
shapen monsters and parasites, she represented 
mediaeval times at the Court of Sweden during 
the seventeenth century under the reign of Gus- 
tavus Adolphus. She was too gentle to have 
attempted to kill or maim her daughter, to pun- 
ish her for not being a boy; she was, however, a 



76 Princesses and Court Ladies 

deplorable mother, and it is but fair to remem- 
ber this in judging Christina. From her mother 
Christina inherited a great many faults and not 
one virtue. All there was good in her nature 
came from her father. 

Gustavus Adolphus left a dazzling reputation. 
He was the hero of popular fancy. Nothing 
which could strike the imagination was lacking 
in him. He came from the distant and mysteri- 
ous North, which fancy picturea as icebound 
and lost in darkness. Thirty years later, Huet 
and Nande, when they reached Sweden, were 
childishly amazed at the flowers, the sunshine, 
and the cherries. The king himself seemed the 
very incarnation of Scandinavian mythology. 
Emperor Ferdinand called him ' ' the king of snow, ' ' 
and the name suited him wonderfully well. He 
was a fair-haired giant, with a golden beard, a 
white and pink complexion, and gray eyes full 
of fire. He was easily moved- to anger, terrible 
in war, but gentle in times of peace and when he 
was truly himself. He was then the good and 
joyous giant, amenable to laughter. Like the 
Ases, companions of Odin, he loved to drink with 
the brave and to strike gallant blows in battle. 
Some historians have blamed him for being over 
rash, a mere soldier, contrary to the custom of 
sovereigns and generals. Christina took his part 
with great warmth. "The cheap fashion of being 
a hero," said she, "at the cost of cowardice, was 
not then in vogue. Nowadays, the greater the 



Christina of Sweden 77 

poltroon the greater the hero." Whether the 
doughty onsets of Gustavus Adolphus were reason- 
able or not, they at least gave him great renown 
in the world. 

His prowess, worthy of the old-time knights, 
did not prevent a great taste for letters. He 
spoke several languages, and had a well-chosen 
camp library which followed him everywhere. 
He had meditated on human affairs, on ambition, 
on the passion for glory, on the fate of nations, 
and he had come to the conclusion that he was 
the scourge of Sweden, that all great kings are 
fatal to their people, and every great man a 
plague to some victim or other. "God," said 
he, "never diverges from the law of mediocrity 
without crushing some one. It is a proof of love 
toward the humble when kings are blessed with 
commonplace souls." He adds "that, on the 
other hand, mediocre princes at times also bring 
down calamities on their subjects." But these 
calamities are light as compared with those which 
result from a sovereign's greatness. His violent 
passion for glory, which deprived him of peace, 
causes him naturally to deprive his subjects of 
it as well. He is like a torrent which brings 
destruction there where it passes. God had sent 
him in a moment of anger against Sweden to 
win battles; he pitied his country but never 
dreamed for an instant of resisting this Heaven- 
appointed vocation. When the victory remained 
imcertain, he would dismount, kneel, and call out 



78 Princesses and Court Ladies 

loudly to the "God of battle." And God testified 
His favour by removing him from the earth, in 
the glory of his youth and strength, and in the 
very midst of a victorious battle. Gustavus 
Adolphus left the scene as he had entered it. 
Europe was dizzy with the spreading renown of 
his genius and his virtues. His daughter Chris- 
tina, like him, loved glory; but she could never 
distinguish between that which was genuine and 
that which was spurious. 

She was not quite six years old when her father 
was killed at Lutzen, November 6, 1632.' All the 
details of the regency and the guardianship of 
his daughter had been ordained by Gustavus 
Adolphus. First of all, he forbade that his wife 
should have any voice either in the government 
of the state or the education of the child. He 
had shuddered at the mere thought that she 
might have any influence; she was debarred from 
all action. This was specified in the archives of 
the senate and repeated in the instructions given 
to the Chancellor Oxenstiern. In his letters 
during the campaign, the king insisted on this 
point, and, just before the battle of Lutzen, he 
wrote again on the subject to his minister. It is 
remarkable that a husband, much in love with 
his wife, should have recognised her shortcomings 
so clearly. 

He placed Christina under the guardianship of 
a regency council. The senate and the ministers 
were to superintend her education, and to under- 




QUEEN ELEONORA OF SWEDEN 
From an old copper print 



Christina of Sweden 79 

take in concert to make a great prince of a very 
wide-awake little girl, for the king had commanded 
that she was to be brought up like a boy. He 
himself chose for her a governor, of whom Chris- 
tina, grown old, approved. "He had been," said 
she, ' ' associated with the king in all his pleasures, 
the companion of his journey ings and wild doings, 
the confidant of his loves." 

This nobleman was proficient in all manly exer- 
cises, a courtier but very ignorant ; moreover, he 
was violent and choleric, much given to women 
and wine in his youth ; his vices did not abandon 
him until his death, though he had moderated them. 
This model of a governor for a young princess was 
seconded by an under-tutor equally fond of the 
bottle, and a professor, doctor of theology, honest 
John Matthiae. Chancellor Oxenstiern had abso- 
lute command of the palace. Unfortunately for 
Christina he had been detained in Germany at 
the death of his master. The other regents did 
not dare to resist the widow of Gustavus Adol- 
phus, and Mary Eleonore had leisure to commit 
some follies. Thanks to her, the child nearly 
went out of her senses. 

The loss of a husband was too good an excuse 
for weeping for the queen not to make the most 
of it. She resolved that her sorrow should be 
the talk of the world. Night and day, sobs, 
deluges of tears alarmed the palace; this lasted 
for weeks, for months, for years. She caused her 
apartments to be hung with black; the windows 



8o Princesses and Court Ladies 

were hidden under sable draperies, so that "it 
was impossible to see an inch before one's face,"^ 
and she wept, wept, wept, by the light of wax 
tapers. Once a day she "visited" a gold box 
hung above her bed; it contained her husband's 
heart, and she wept over the box. At other 
times, woeful lamefitations sounded in the funereal 
chambers. If the queen had only shut up her 
dwarfs and buffoons with her, there would have 
been little anxiety; they could take care of them- 
selves. But she had taken possession of Chris- 
tina, whom she guarded jealously, took to bed 
with her, so as to force the child to weep and 
lament with her, and to pass her life in the shadow 
of the black draperies. If an attempt was made 
to snatch the poor little girl from her, she would 
screech and howl. The regents hesitated, con- 
sulted with each other, and meanwhile time went 
on. The return of Oxenstiem released Christina. 
The chancellor hastened to send Mary Eleonore to 
one of her castles, where she might shed tears to 
her heart's content. In the chronicles of the 
day, her name appears only now and then, accom- 
panied by some such comment, "The queen wept 
several hours ; . . . the queen shed tears all night 
long; . .. . the queen could not stop her sobs. . ." 
Christina for years was unable to shake off 
this nightmare; she was haunted by the black 
chambers, the golden box, and the paroxysms of 
sobs, bursting out at stated moments. Mary 

* Autobiography of Christina. 



Christina of Sweden 8i 

Eleonore is responsible for many of her daughter's 
eccentricities. 

The regents, the senate, and the representa- 
tives of the state could now undertake their great 
task and give the rare example of a monarch 
brought up by the people to govern according to 
that people's ideas. Christina's professor was the 
nation itself, not excluding the fourth Swedish 
order, that of the peasantry. To make the case 
s'^ill more singular, Sweden, then a very illiterate 
nation, became alive to the necessity of education 
and believed with an ardent faith, which has 
never been equalled even in our days, in its mysti- 
cal and magic power. During ten years the 
nation lived in anguish, watching the royal child's 
progress in Latin and in mathematics. The pro- 
ficiency of this brilliant pupil was heralded abroad, 
to the farthest limits of the kingdom "and ex- 
cited," says an historian, "the most joyful hopes 
for the future happiness of the country."^ The 
queen was learning Greek; all thrilled with pride; 
she was reading Thucydides; joy became delirium. 
Strangers looked upon her as a little prodigy ; she 
was the pride of the nation. 

Some of Christina's school tasks have been pre- 
served and a selection of them printed. The 
French themes are much such as are written 
nowadays in ordinary girls' schools. There is 
one on Patience, one on Constancy. A third, 
in the form of a letter, condoles with a lady 

1 Granert. 



82 Princesses and Court Ladies 

on the death of her husband. The schoolgirl, 
endeavouring to express noble sentiments, made 
rather a muddle of them. "We must consider," 
said she, "that as no captive leaves his prison 
without great profit to himself, likewise the souls, 
imprisoned on earth, feel at the moment of their 
deliverance the joy of a life free from regrets and 
sighs; thus, death gives the assurance of happi- 
ness." Christina was sixteen years of age when 
she composed this masterpiece, which imprudent 
courtiers offered to the admiration of posterity. 
The same enthusiastic persons went into ecstasies 
over her Latin exercises, which they discovered to 
be full of "elegance." I dare to call it "Kitchen 
Latin," but in any case the quality of her Latin 
mattered very little for the happiness of the 
nation. 

The Swedish government was by no means of 
that opinion. What would become of Sweden 
were its queen to be guilty of a solecism? Pre- 
cautions were taken against so great an evil, 
Matthiae was obliged to render a strict account of 
her progress. The regency was thus made aware 
that, on the 26th of February, 1639, the queen 
had undertaken the Dialogues Francais of Sam- 
uel Bernard; that on the 30th of March she 
had committed to memory Cato's speech, in Sal- 
luste, and on April 6th that of Catilina to his 
soldiers; that she was learning astronomy in a 
book which dated from the thirteenth century, in 
which no heretical opinions on the rotation of the 



Christina of Sweden 83 

earth could be found; that in history she began 
with the Pentateuch, which was followed by the 
War of Thebes, and that she read, most atten- 
tively, an old Swedish book recommended by 
Gustavus Adolphus, in which the art of governing 
was condensed in maxims. A commission of sena- 
tors, to make sure that the queen was a conscien- 
tious pupil, examined her on each branch of 
Jearning. The states voted as to the best way 
that the queen "might be brought up and edu- 
cated," and made use of this good opportunity to 
recommend that her Majesty should have no ideas 
inculcated "that might be dangerous to the 
liberties and circumstances of the state or the 
subjects of the kingdom." 

Never was pupil subjected to a harder training, 
and no pupil ever needed this training less. The 
little queen was gifted with remarkable facility 
and a passionate desire to learn. She wanted to 
know all things and she understood them all. 
She forgot to eat and drink, she deprived herself 
of sleep ; in a word, she made her poor little brain 
work until it was in real danger. Christina had 
no luck in her bringing-up. Scarcely had she been 
snatched from her mother's terrifying black 
chamber when she fell a prey to very honest 
people who thought it their duty to make of her 
a youthful prodigy, and who, most unfortunately, 
succeeded only too well. No one about her 
seemed to understand that a little girl ought to 
play with her doll. The less child-like she was 



84 Princesses and Court Ladies 

the more pleased were these good souls. She 
knew neither rest nor recreation. From year's 
end to year's end she worked unremittingly, 
feverishly, taking, by way of diversion, most vio- 
lent and excessive exercise. She was stunted in 
her growth, her blood was over-heated, and sev- 
eral times she was at death's door; but she knew 
eight languages, could embarrass her professor at 
Greek, discoursed on philosophy, and had her 
views on the woman question. She was really 
a little scholar and, in spite of all, she was bright, 
witty, and sometimes very amusing. Those about 
her were some time before discovering that, as a 
result of all this forcing, the springs of her mind, 
already taxed by the absurdities of her mother, 
were really somewhat out of order. Sweden 
prided itself on the accomplishment of its task 
and admired its young sovereign without any mis- 
givings. 

What more could one ask of her? She knew 
by heart the Lutheran catechism, and quoted the 
Bible like a bishop. She was to have become to 
all intents a boy; she went farther. She was 
dishevelled, grimy-handed, ill-dressed, she swore 
like a musketeer; but she rode to perfection, 
killed a hare with a bullet, slept on a hard bed, 
and from the depths of her soul despised women, 
women's ideas, women's work, women's talk. 
When she galloped along, free and bold, wearing 
a man's hat and doublet, her hair flying, her face 
tanned, her subjects were perhaps not quite sure 




ti^^ja :J3'J5ft?taii3ii 



QUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS 
From an old copper print 



Christina ot Sweden 85 

that they were governed by a prince, but they 
were certainly persuaded that they were not under 
the sway of a princess. Her face, which was that 
of a youth, helped to bewilder them. Christina 
was large-featured; she had a powerful, aquiline 
nose, her underlip was a little over-hanging, her 
fine blue eyes were full of fire. She also had a 
manly voice which, however, she knew how to 
soften. She was small and slightly misshapen, 
but her agility and liveliness made of her an 
amusing and pretty boy. The people were pas- 
sionately fond of her. Neither the "five big 
old fellows," as she called the regents, nor honest 
Matthiae, nor the drunkard of a governor, nor the 
court chaplain, nor any of the courtiers, the sol- 
diers, the magistrates, nor the scholars who sur- 
rounded her from morning till night, ever 
suspected the volcano hidden under that frolic- 
some appearance. They would have shuddered 
had they been able to read the confessions of the 
Autobiography. 

In this precious bit of literature, which was 
never finished, Christina erected an altar for her- 
self. It was the fashion of the day. This was 
the era of "portraits," which, with perfect 
candour, initiated the public into one's intimacy, 
relating good and evil of oneself, always leaning 
a little more upon the former. In truth there is 
less pride, and especially less evil pride, in trying 
to appear at one's best before the crowd, than in 
exhibiting one's vices, after the example of Rous- 



86 Princesses and Court Ladies 

seau. The only fault we can find with Christina 
is that she slightly exceeded her right to make the 
most of her model's good points. 

She dwells, more than anyone would ever dare 
to do nowadays, on her heart, "great and noble 
from its earliest being;" on her soul "forged of 
the same steel;" on the "innumerable talents," 
which singled her out for the admiration, of the 
world. As to her faults which, according to the 
rule of such writings, she does not wish to hide, 
she ascribes to herself such as may become her 
royal rank, such as do not disqualify a superior 
being. "I was suspicious," said she, "and ambi- 
tious beyond all bounds. I was passionate and 
violent, proud and impatient, contemptuous of 
others and sarcastic." All that does well enough, 
but a little later she adds, "Moreover, I was 
incredulous and by no means given to piety; my 
impetuous nature was as prone to love as to 
ambition." She however protests that God, who 
does not seem to have taken umbrage at her want 
of faith, preserved her from the errors to which 
her nature had predestined her. ' ' However close 
to the precipice I may have gone, Thy all-powerful 
hand drew me back." She is quite aware that 
calumny has not spared her. On one occasion 
she accuses herself of "having been too contemp- 
tuous of the proprieties to which her sex should 
be subject," and that it is this which caused her 
to be often most unjustly condemned. She 
acknowledges that in this she was wrong, but 



Christina of Sweden 87 

adds that, were the occasion to present itself once 
more, she would be even more reckless. ' ' I am 
persuaded that I should have done better to rid 
myself, once and for all, of these trammels; this 
is a weakness which I cannot forgive myself. I 
was not bom for the yoke; I should have thrown 
it off altogether, as became my rank and my 
nature." 

Her most religious Lutheran subjects believed 
even more firmly than did this " incredtilous " 
princess, so little given to piety, that a divine 
hand was sure to keep her from tumbling dowii 
certain precipices. Still, had they guessed how 
necessary this help was to keep their young queen 
on the straight road, they would have been horror- 
stricken. In spite of drinking, swearing, and 
much native coarseness, these half -barbarians were 
of a grave and religious turn of mind, as it behooves 
sincere Protestants to be. God was a witness of 
their daily acts, and thus ever ready to help or 
avenge them. When Gustavus Adolphus took 
leave of the states, before sailing for Germany, 
all sang in chorus the hymn, "In the morning, 
fill us with Thy grace. . . . We shall be joyous all 
through the day." These people looked upon life 
seriously, whereas to Christina it was a masque- 
rade. In spite of the wit, the charm, the courage, 
and the science of this extraordinary girl, she and 
they could not long agree. She lacked one gift, 
a sense of morality, and she fell upon a nation 
which would lose everything rather than that. 



88 Princesses and Court Ladies 

When she was eighteen, the states proclaimed 
her majority, and the regents gave up the power 
into her hands. The value of this education, 
given by the whole nation to the girl-queen, was 
now to be tested. 

II 

The states, very wisely, had recommended that 
she should be fashioned into a true Swede, obedi- 
ent to the manners and customs of the country, 
"both physically and morally." The senate and 
the regency, in this respect, were of one mind with 
the states. With this end in view, we are aghast 
at the means employed to reach it. The more 
we consider the Sweden of Gustavus Adolphus 
the less we understand why great culture and 
studies, carried over-far, should have been em- 
ployed to inspire Christina with the love of her 
country. 

A great prince had covered it with glory, but 
the campaigns of Gustavus Adolphus, while they 
made Sweden powerful, had by no means softened 
the people. He found it rough, and rough he 
left it. When he came to the throne, in 1611, 
ignorance was deep and almost universal. There 
was a single and mediocre school at Upsal;^ for 
various reasons but few young men frequented 
foreign universities. The middle class was not 

^ The University of Upsal was founded in 1476. At the period 
we are studying, it had fallen to the rank of a mere school. Gustavus 
Adolphus reorganized it. 



Christina of Sweden 89 

rich. The nobles despised learning according to 
a tradition still dear to aristocrats. Numbers of 
magistrates could barely sign their name, and 
many excellent generals were in the same case, 
Gustavus Adolphus founded schools and imported 
a bookseller from Germany, but he could not 
create a learned faculty out of nothing. At one 
time the medical school of Upsal boasted but of 
one professor; he sufficed, however, the number 
of pupils being very small. The evil of the day 
was pedantism, which flourished, thanks to the 
efforts of a few scholars. Doctor Pancrace and 
Trissotin would, in Sweden, have found kindred 
spirits. 

Theology alone prospered in this intellectual 
desert. A zealous clergy catechised the faithful 
and preached to them with a sort of fury and with 
such fervour that, in spite of an ardent faith, the 
congregations bewailed the length of the sermons. 
The lower classes, to what they were taught, 
added a thousand superstitions which, to them, 
represented poetry; the people were very poor, 
very ignorant, and their lives were hard and 
dreary. 

The customs were as primitive as the ideas. 
The deputies, sent by the order of peasantry, 
took part in state affairs in rags. The houses of 
the nobles were whitewashed and very scantily 
furnished. At meal times a canopy was sus- 
pended over the table to keep the spiders and 
their webs from falling into the dishes. The table 



90 Princesses and Court Ladies 

appurtenances were in keeping with the furniture. 
At the wedding feast of Gustavus Adolphus 
pewter dishes were used, and even these had to be 
borrowed. The food was coarse; even at the 
king's table there was nothing superfluous, such 
as cakes or desserts, nothing but meat, and what 
was left over was served anew. The mother of 
Gustavus Adolphus made her own purchases of 
wine, and the merchant had to wait long before 
he was paid. Prince Charles Augustus, who 
reigned after Christina, wrote lengthily to his 
mother before he could make up his mind as to 
which would be more economical : to have an every- 
day suit made, or to wear out one of his Sunday 
doubtlets. A traveller ^ relates that the copper 
money was "as big as tiles." If this detail is 
correct it is characteristic. 

They had only one luxury, drinking; but they 
certainly did justice to that. At the marriage 
of Gustavus Adolphus, seVenty-seven hogsheads of 
Rhine wine and a hundred and forty-four casks 
of beer were drunk, without counting other kinds 
of wine and brandy. Great rejoicings took the 
form of sitting in front of numberless bottles, 
drinking to one's heart's content, throwing glasses 
at each other and, finally, rolling under the table. 
At court and at the inn things were much on the 
same level. No one, not even a bishop, had the 
right to refuse a toast. 

Stockholm had the appearance of a half bar- 

1 Huet. 



Christina of Sweden 91 

barous capital. From afar one saw a multitude 
of monuments and palaces, whose sparkling roofs, 
covered with copper, looked down upon mounds 
of grass. Massive towers, Turkish minarets, 
steeples of every shape, palaces with Greek colon- 
nades, formed a most heterogeneous and pictur- 
esque mass.^ As to houses, there were none. On 
drawing near, one saw that the green mounds were 
habitations made of wood and covered with turf. 
In such a case it is well to quote one's authori- 
ties. We give way to the very truthful Huet, 
bishop of Avranches, who visited Stockholm in 
1652. "The windows," says he, "are pierced in 
the roof, which is formed of boards and the bark 
of birch that does not rot, the whole is covered 
with grass. This sort of roof, according to Virgil, 
was used by the peasants in Italy. With the 
grass, oats and other grains are sown; their roots 
cling to the wood and strengthen it. In this wise, 
the tops of the houses are like fields of verdure 
and flowers; I have seen sheep and pigs browse 
thereon. Roofs are thus formed, so I was told, 
in order that the houses, made of resinous wood,, 
should be protected from lightning, and also that, 
in time of war, the animals may there find their 
food." Stockholm could boast of being a very 
original city.^ 

Sweden would have required a great effort to 

1 Ch. Ponsonailhe, Sdbastien Bourbon. 

' A learned Icelander, who wrote during the eighteenth cen- 
tury, Jonas Amgrim, gives a similar description of the houses in his 
country (Reipub Island, chap. vi). 



92 Princesses and Court Ladies 

catch up with other Occidental nations, and the 
reign of Gustavus Adolphus gave no scope for 
pacific enterprises. The hero knew what he was 
saying when he assured his astonished officers that 
"God was very good to the nations whose sover- 
eigns had commonplace souls." He left his king- 
dom exhausted, without money, ruined by the 
frequent passage of troops, crushed with taxes, 
and at his death the war was not ended. His 
political confidant, Oxenstiem, went on with it, 
and the fate of the land was most lamentable. 
The peasants were at their wits' end. Tormented 
by the soldiery, tormented by the tax-gatherer, 
finding neither succour nor pity when they applied 
to the all-powerful chancellor, they entered into 
open revolt and, in despair, emigrated. A part 
of Sweden had gone to waste. 

In order to govern this simple nation, the}/" had 
formed a queen, fed on fine literature, in love 
with poetry, fond of rare editions and costly 
manuscripts. To govern this poverty-stricken 
land, they had formed a queen who adored beauti- 
ful furniture, pictures, statues, medals, royal 
pomp. To live in this rough country, they had 
formed a queen whose dream was of southern 
scenes and Italian skies. To win the confidence 
of this dreary intellectual abyss, they had formed 
a queen whose mind was the most restless, the 
most disturbed, the most audacious, the most 
undisciplined, the most distorted that ever was 
created. And to cap the climax, they had formed 




COUNT AXEL OXENSTIERN 
From an old copper print 



Christina of Sweden 93 

a queen so masculine in her tastes that she con- 
sidered marriage degrading and refused to bear 
children, wishing to learn the art of war instead. 
And when it was discovered that Sweden, loyal 
and devoted, but fanatical and rustic, bored 
Christina beyond expression, Sweden was amazed 
and much scandalised. So much evil has been 
heaped in the balance against Christina, that it 
is but fair to consider what may excuse her. She 
was brought up to reign over Florence rather 
than over cobweb -hung Stockholm. It was not 
quite her fault if she found her fate a hard one. 
Oxenstiem had been the real sovereign of 
Sweden during her minority. He was responsible 
for the greater part of this deplorable education; 
it was he who plucked its first bitter fruits. For 
eight years past he had spent three hours a day 
teaching the art of government to the little queen, 
and during those eight years he had found in her 
a docile and grateful pupil. Once Christina took 
the reins in her own hands — farewell to submis- 
sion! This sort of boy in petticoats had her own 
ideas on government, and they were by no means 
those that had been inculcated to her. Oxen- 
stiem had fed her with the purest aristocratic 
traditions, and her own convictions smelt of the 
gutter. She insisted that personal merit was 
everything, birth nothing. "There are," said 
she, "peasants bom kings and kings who ought 
to be peasants; there is a rabble of kings as there 
is a rabble of ruffians." Having discovered a 



94 Princesses and Court Ladies 

talented but low-born Swede, she proclaimed him 
ambassador and senator, and foisted him on the 
senate with these words, worthy of Beaumarchais, 
"Salvias would doubtless be a great man had he 
come of a noble family." 

In foreign affairs the same kind of surprise was 
in store for those who had praised her superior 
mind. Taking her flatterers at their word she 
refused to accept a guide. She wished for peace, 
in which she surely was not wrong, and, in spite 
of Oxenstiem, signed the treaty of Westphalia. 
The old statesman was bound to acknowledge 
that he had found his master. He had to do with 
a young woman who did not fear a struggle. 
"Our passions," said she, "are the salt of the 
earth; one is happy or unhappy according as one 
has wrestled with them." 

Ill 

It was plain that she meant to establish her 
independence. What she meant to do with it was 
less clear. She wrote, "*To some, all things are 
allowed, and all are becoming." She was, of 
course, among these privileged few and acted in 
accordance. She was of opinion that follies have 
less importance than is usually attributed to them. 
Feeble souls alone stop to weep over past faults. 
Strong minds never forget that "there is so little 
difference between wisdom and folly that this 
difference is scarcely worth considering, especially 



Christina of Sweden 95 

if we remember how short life is." What is wise 
and what is f ooHsh ? Instead of wasting our time 
looking at the past, let us look at the future. "All 
that is no more is not worth a thought; one must 
ever begin anew." A convenient precept, and one 
which Queen Christina always adopted for her 
own use. Whatever might be the past she made 
up her accounts with her conscience and began 
afresh. In so doing she took on such an air of 
bravado that she irritated the gallery and brought 
upon herself severe strictures. She ought perhaps 
not to have forgotten certain things so easily. 

She has been accused of having had a band of 
favourites, immediately after her emancipation, 
and ugly words have been used with regard to 
her conduct. The subject is a delicate one, but 
in spite of many injurious pamphlets there has 
been sufficient uncertainty for the queen's virtue 
to find some champions.^ How can one be sure 
of such things? She made no secret of choosing 
favourites among the younger and more amiable 
men who crowded about her. That, in her day, 
scurrilous pamphlets found much echo in the 
public mind, that her conduct was severely criti- 
cised, is also quite true. That one should take 
as gospel truth the declarations of her Auto- 

* Among others, Arckenholtz and Granert, who ingenuously 
confess that they were influenced by the desire to contradict the 
French writers. Arckenholtz in a footnote says that a Swedish 
historian of his day, Gioerwell, told him that he was alone of his 
opinion "that Christina had not overstepped the botindaries of 
chastity." 



96 Princesses and Court Ladies 

biography on the subject of the precipice, often 
approached, always avoided, is quite another 
matter. The argument that her masculine tastes 
were sufficient protection is not altogether con- 
vincing. On the other hand appearances might 
be misleading, with a young woman who dressed 
like a man, lived a man's life, and had valets in 
place of maids. After all, each one is free to 
have his own opinions of Christina's virtue. 

From one reproach the queen could not vindi- 
cate herself. She says somewhere, ' ' The passi'on 
of those we cannot love is insupportable." She 
might have completed the aphorism thus: "The 
passion of those we no longer love is insupport- 
able." Favourites came and went with alarming 
rapidity. At first she adored them, showered 
dignities, honours, money on them, as, for in- 
stance, on Magnus of Gardie, the first on the list, 
who was twenty-two, handsome, and of "noble 
air." She made him ambassador, colonel, sena- 
tor, grand master of her household, grand treas- 
urer. When she wearied of these poor fellows she 
got rid of them without the slightest ceremony; 
this was the case with Magnus when she replaced 
him by Pimentel, ambassador from Spain. She 
refused to see her ex-favourite and wrote, in her 
own hand, on the margin of a history of her reign, 
"Count Magnus was a drunkard and a liar." On 
all occasions she put into practice her own maxim 
that one should never look back, but always begin 
life anew. "Those who make good use of all 



Christina of Sweden 97 

things," said she, "are wise and happy." As far 
as favourites went, she made use of all who were 
within her grasp. 

The reign of La Gar die was also, at Stockholm, 
the reign of French politics, of French wit, of 
French literature, of French fashions. The treaty 
with France was renewed (165 1). The queen 
gave the lion's share to France in the crowd of 
scholars, of writers, of artists, that composed her 
famous and superb court. Naude took charge of 
her library. Saumaise spent a year with her, not 
however without much coaxing, for no man of 
letters was ever vainer than he. Descartes 
allowed himself to be tempted, for his own mis- 
fortune and for science's loss. Christina forced 
him to come at five o'clock in the morning, through 
the bitter cold, to discuss philosophy with her. 
After some months of this tyranny he died. 
Bochart, the Orientalist, brought his friend Huet, 
future bishop of Avranches. Sebastien Bourdon, 
Nanteuil, Francois Parise, the medal engraver, the 
architect Simon de la Vallee, worked in Sweden 
for the queen. Her secretary for state affairs was 
Chevreau, who later was tutor to the Duke of 
Maine. Her four other secretaries were French. 
French, her doctor and her surgeon. French, a 
heterogeneous crowd of men; scholars, philos- 
ophers, grammarians, makers of court verses, 
pedants, intriguers, fine gentlemen, charlatans of 
every description, valets fit for any sort of low 
work. Among these we must distinguish Clairet 



98 Princesses and Court Ladies 

Poissonnet, a veritable genius in his way, first 
valet of the chamber, and confidant of the queen's 
secrets. Poissonnet could neither read nor write, 
but whenever his mistress had on hand some very 
complicated affair, she entrusted it to him. She 
sent him to the Pope, also to Mazarin. He was 
celebrated for the way in which he wormed secrets 
out of others while he kept his own counsel; but 
he was forced to have his letters written for him 
and the answers read. Mazarin, well up in such 
matters, greatly admired Poissonnet. 

Swedish, German, Dutch scholars and writers 
completed this original court, of which Christina 
was the soul. The care of the state did not en- 
croach on her studies. She took from her hours of 
sleep, of meals, from those which might with ad- 
vantage have been given to dress, in order to attend 
to public affairs. Thanks to this system, she had 
trained herself to sleep but three hours, to dine in 
a jiffy, and to comb her hair once in eight days — ■ 
sometimes, she would skip a week. To the ink- 
stained schoolgirl had succeeded an ink-stained, 
grimy-handed, ill-kempt queen, whose linen was 
doubtful and torn, but who had read Petronius 
and Martial, was afraid of no ill-sounding words, 
was very learned, and could discuss and argue with 
the best. She hated pedantry, so detestable in 
women; the sparkle of her wit saved her from it, 
even when she discoursed with pedants on pedan- 
tic subjects. Her reputation spread all over Eu- 
rope, so that her people were very proud of her; 



Christina of Sweden 99 

only it was becoming very evident that brilliant 
sovereigns are an expensive Ivixury. 

We can scarcely, nowadays, realise the cost of 
such a court. Our monarchs have scholars for 
nothing. Two and a half centuries ago that was 
not the case. The honour of a great man's visits 
was paid for, and Christina was generous. A bag 
of gold, a pension, a golden chain were bestowed 
on the men who gave lustre to her throne. When 
she could not secure their presence she wrote to 
them, and other pensions, other chains of gold 
found their way out of the country. Europe was 
full of leeches that sucked the lif eblood of Sweden ; 
throughout the land the people murmured and 
rebelled. The Swedes could not think without 
bitterness of the money which they had produced 
by the sweat of the brow and which went to for- 
eigners. Their anger grew as they saw these aliens 
devouring their fair country like a prey, and who 
encouraged their queen in her disastrous extrava- 
gance. Her people died of hunger while she com- 
pleted her artistic collections. 

She took great glory in these collections, and in 
truth they were remarkable. Her library was 
unrivalled in Europe and boasted of eight thou- 
sand rare manuscripts. The old masters, beauti- 
ful curios abounded in her picture gallery and 
cabinets, where, beside antique statues there were 
medals, ivories, and innumerable costly gems. 
And yet, real connoisseurs held these in mediocre 
esteem, because Christina had proceeded like a 

LOFC. 



loo Princesses and Court Ladies 

veritable parvenue, spending money lavishly, but 
showing no discernment, no real love of art. Her 
library and museums were but a setting for her own 
extraordinary personality. She had paid one hun- 
dred and sixty thousand crowns for two manu- 
scripts,^ but she did not even know that many 
books in her library had been stolen from her. She 
possessed eleven pictures by Correggio and two by 
Raphael ; but she cut up her finest paintings so as to 
ornament with the heads, hands, and feet the ceil- 
ings of her palace. Such things stamp a collector. 

In her noblest tastes we find that unhealthy 
desire to attract the world's attention which 
caused her ruin. Even her most ardent admirers 
acknowledged her insatiable vanity. This female 
philosopher adored flattery and, with joy, breathed 
in whatever incense was offered her. She did not 
disdain to bum incense to herself, and inniimer- 
able are the medals that she caused to be struck 
which represented her as Minerva, Diana subdu- 
ing wild beasts, or as winged Victory crowned 
with laurels. She encouraged panegyrics in verse 
and prose. She confirmed herself in the sense of 
her own importance by bombarding with officious 
advice Retz and Mazarin, Conde and Louis XIV, 
the kings of Poland and Spain. Her advice was 

^ For the benefit of scholars, here are the titles of these two 
manuscripts: The Ecclesiastical History of Philostorgus and The 
Bahylonics of Jamblique. After the ^death of Christina these 
manuscripts went to the Vatican library. The second was con- 
sidered as spurious. It is not known whether the first contained 
the original text or an extract given by Photius. 



Christina of Sweden loi 

ill received; but, undaunted, she continued to 
give it. Her attempt to correspond with the king 
of Spain is an amusing example of her mad desire 
for notoriety. 

In 1653, an unfortunate negro, lost in Germany, 
was seeking for something, he could not explain 
what, as no one understood his language. A 
scholar of Erfurt, Job Ludolf, author of works 
on Ethiopia and the Ethiopian language, was then 
at Stockholm. He persuaded Christina that this 
negro was an Ethiopian and that, doubtless, he 
was in search of her august person in order to 
compliment her on her researches with regard 
to his country. He added that in all probability 
the traveller's name was Akalaktus. This was 
the very occasion to make her name known in 
Africa. The queen wrote a fine Latin epistle to 
her "very dear cousin and friend," the king of 
Ethiopia, Consanguineo nostra carissimo, eadem 
gratia Mihiopum regi, etc. By way of beginning 
"a regtilar correspondence with him," she wished 
him every sort of prosperity, and recommended 
Akalaktus to his good will.^ The parcel was sent 
to the negro in Germany. Whether he received 
it or not is a mooted question. All that history 
teaches us on that subject is that he wandered 
in Germany for another twelvemonth, departed, 
evidently disheartened, and was never heard of 
more. 

^ A copy of this letter still existed a century ago in the Swedish 
archives. 



I02 Princesses and Court Ladies 

Sweden, as we have seen, was hurt by the 
queen's marked preference for strangers, and 
ruined by expenses, the utiUty of which they 
could not see. There was only left to them to 
take what consolation they could in the fact that 
she was an excellent Greek scholar and that she 
had begun the study of Hebrew. The one hope 
was that Christina would marry, for everyone 
knows that matrimony changes the notions of 
women; but this hope had to be abandoned. 
Candidates for her hand had not been wanting; 
they came from the East and West, from the 
North and South ; they were young and old — a 
motley crowd. She sent them all about their 
business, declaring that she wished to remain 
single. She would have no master, and the 
thought of maternity was odious to her. Her 
education had completely unsexed her. As her 
ministers and the senate insisted, she offered to 
abdicate (October 25, 165 1). All implored her 
to remain. She consented, but on condition that 
no one should ever speak to her again of marriage. 
Three months later, Bourdelot entered upon the 
scene and the whole country, for very shame, hid 
its face. 



IV 



Bourdelot, of whom Sweden still speaks with 
anger, was the son of a Sens barber. He studied 
to be an apothecary, started oif to see the world, 



Christina of Sweden 103 

and turned up in Italy. A certain shady business 
forced him to return post haste to France. He 
complained that he had thus missed the scarlet 
robe ; the Holy Father had wished to appoint him 
as his physician with the dignity of cardinal. 
Henceforth, he set up as doctor. His colleagues 
dubbed him an ignoramus. It is hard to say on 
what they based their judgment when one remem- 
bers what, in those days, passed for science. 
Bourdelot could murder Latin with the best of 
them. With the best of them, also, he could dis- 
course on the humours of the blood or the move-- 
ments of the bile. Like others of his species he 
could bleed or purge his patients. Of these things 
we can speak learnedly, having read one of his 
consultations, in four quarto pages, all written in 
Latin. 

The brothers of the lancet could say what they 
would, Bourdelot had great success. The women 
were for him. He was the model of doctors for 
fine ladies. He was amiable and gay, witty, and 
the advocate of pleasure. He knew admirable 
secrets for preserving youth, sang agreeably, 
played the guitar, and could turn out exquisite 
little dishes. He had no rival in the art of 
organising festivities or perpetuating practical 
jokes. For the rest, a veritable Gil Bias, quite 
convinced that morality consists in making the 
most of one's opportunities, and that scruples 
are a luxury which poor devils like himself could 
ill afford. Clever and amusing, playing pranks 



I04 Princesses and Court Ladies 

like a veritable monkey, yielding when it was 
necessary, insolent when he could safely be so, 
believing neither in God nor in the devil, happy 
to live and to laugh and to lie : such was Bourdelot. 

He had been recommended to Christina by 
Saumaise. The queen had long felt herself ill. 
Nature had avenged itself for the barbarous regi- 
men of dictionaries and scribbling, without any 
recreation except the Latin disputes of the Upsal 
professors. She was eaten up with abscesses and 
undermined by fever. She could neither eat nor 
sleep ; she often fainted and thought herself dying. 
Her ordinary physicians could do nothing for her." 
She called in Bourdelot who showed some common 
sense. He took her books from her, ordered rest 
and amusement, and soothed her regrets by assur- 
ing her that, at the court of France, pedants in 
petticoats were turned into ridicule. 

Christina submitted to this treatment and 
found that it was a pleasant one. Health re- 
turned as by magic. She took to amusement, 
first grudgingly, then willingly, finally with frenzy. 
She sent her scholars, her ministers, her senators 
flying, threw her dictionaries out of the window, 
and made up for lost time. She was twenty -five 
years of age and had long arrears; but this did 
not trouble her. Few women have ever enjoyed 
themselves as did Christina of Sweden. By a 
touch of the wand the palace was transformed. 
From a veritable Sorbonne, Bourdelot made of it 
a small Louvre, of the time when the youthful 




ABBE BOURDELOT 
After the painting by N. de Largillier 



Christina of Sweden 105 

Louis XIV amused himself in the company of 
Mazarin's nieces. Christina spent her days in 
festivities! Christina walked minuets! Christina 
disguised herself at masquerades ! Christina made 
fun of scholars! She forced Bochart to play at 
battledore and shuttlecock'with her, Naude to per- 
form in the Attic dances about which he had written 
learned articles, Meibom to sing the Greek airs he 
had reconstituted, and she laughed like a mad- 
cap at the false notes of the one, at the awkward- 
ness and grotesque contortions of the other. One 
day, at Upsal, the professors prepared to discuss 
philosophy before her, according to their wont; 
Christina rushed to her coach and drove away. 
Did her ministers try to lay public affairs before 
her ? She would not listen. Public affairs wearied 
her. If an audience was requested she did not 
grant it ; there was a ballet to be rehearsed. Was 
she to preside at the council ? She ran away to the 
country and shut her door against her ministers. 
Every hour her passion for frivolity increased, 
and Bourdelot did his best to encourage her in 
this mad career. He constantly invented new 
games, new festivities, new tricks to play on the 
learned dons. He capped the climax by admin- 
istering a powerful medicine to the queen the day 
when Bochart was to read fragments of his sacred 
geography. 

Sweden looked on its sovereign as raving mad. 
Rumour whispered that her mind was giving way. 
None of the statesmen, Oxenstiem least of all, 



io6 Princesses and Court Ladies 

had expected this reaction. None had foreseen 
that, unless she had become imbecile under the 
strain, there would come a moment when a young 
woman, full of life and ardour, would wish to 
breathe and enjoy her youth; when she would 
discover that there were other things in life 
beside books, and that the twentieth year has 
been given us to make use of, as the sun is made 
to shine. They had thought that things would 
always continue as they had begun; that, after 
Hebrew, she would learn Arabic, and after Arabic, 
the Ethiopian language, and that she would never 
crave other pleasures. This natural and inevi- 
table result struck them with as much surprise 
as sorrow. For a whole month the queen had 
neither assisted at a council nor received a sena- 
tor; to all serious discussion she answered with a 
flippant remark about a ballet; since her sudden 
departure from Upsal the university was offended 
and showed it. All this was profoundly sad and 
still more incomprehensible. 

The amazement of all these good people was 
diverting ; their sorrow, however, was well-founded. 
It is scarcely pleasant for a nation to fall under 
the rule of a Bourdelot, son of a Sens barber, and 
he was master of all he surveyed. The queen 
saw with his eyes. She told him everything. 
Bourdelot had become a political power! He 
disposed of Sweden's alliances and was about to 
transfer its friendship, for reasons best known 
to himself, from France to Spain. Whoever 



Christina of Sweden 107 

opposed him was thrust aside. His triumph was 
by no means modest. His airs of conqueror, Uke 
those of a turkey-cock ruffling its feathers, exas- 
perated the country ; to this he was quite indiffer- 
ent. He felt himself secure, and so he was. He 
amused Christina, and for the moment she asked 
for nothing else. 

In the camp of the learned consternation was 
rife. With most of them, at the bottom of their 
regrets, lurked selfish preoccupations. Great 
sums of money were lavished on feasting and 
revelry ; this, thought they, would greatly diminish 
their share of the spoils. Those who were really 
disinterested could not abide the thought that 
they were supplanted by a buffoon. Bochart 
wrote to Vossius that he was so unhappy "since 
the change" which had taken place at the cOurt 
of Sweden, that he was eager to leave, for fear it 
might kill him.^ That excellent man, Huet, was 
still more sorrowful, sixty years later ,^ at the 
remembrance "of this deplorable desertion of 
learning." The news flew rapidly in Europe. It 
was whispered that Christina had abandoned her 
studies to give herself up ad ludicra et inania 
under the influence of a charlatan ; ^ that she 
scoffed at philosophy and had adopted this hor- 
rible maxim, "Better enjoy things than know 
about them." ^ 

* Letter of April 26, 1653. 

^ Memoirs. Huet lived to be ninety-one years of age. 

3 Letter from the historian Henri de Valois to Heinsius (1653). 

^ Maxims of Christina. 



io8 Princesses and Court Ladies 

At about this time Benserade declined an invi- 
tation from the queen, either on account of the 
change or for some other reason. The letter she 
sent by way of reply is one of her best, though 
it is not very good. Pen in hand, Christina was 
apt to find her wit heavy and confused. "Thank 
your stars which keep you from visiting Sweden. 
A mind as delicate as yours would have been ill 
at ease and your heart would have caught its 
death of cold. You would have had great success 
in Paris with a square-cut beard, a Lapland coat, 
and snowshoes on your return from this land of 
ice. I fancy that thus accoutred, you would 
have made singular havoc among old hearts. 
No, I swear that you need regret nothing. What 
would you have seen here ? Our ice is like yours, 
only it lasts six months longer. And our summer 
when, in its fury, it swoops upon us, causes our 
flowers, that try to resemble jessamine, to wither 
in the heat. A Benserade, of noble and delicate 
tastes, can hope for no greater happiness than to 
live in the most beautiful court in the world, 
near a prince whose virtue inspires such high and 
cheering hopes. . . . Continue to imm.ortalise 
yourself in adding to the joys of this prince and 
beware of ever deserving to be exiled from him. 
And yet I almost wish you could be guilty of 
some crime deserving such a doom, so that Sweden 
might possess France's most gallant and witty 
son. . . ."' 

1 The end of 1652. 



Christina of Sweden 109 

Meanwhile, the anger of the Swedish court 
grew, as grew the misery engendered by the influ- 
ence of Bourdelot. Christina had no idea of 
order, and under her sway financial difficulties 
became alarming. The gallant inventions of her 
favourite emptied the treasury; the state was 
ruined, its credit gone; the fleet was neglected. 
An ambassador came near abandoning his post 
for lack of money. Even in the palace there 
were debts, and the household was carried on by 
dint of expedients ; the servants, during two years, 
had not received their wages. In order to obtain 
four thousand thalers, which she needed for an 
important journey, the queen was obliged to pawn 
her travelling plate. Everywhere ruin was felt, 
and in order to collect the taxes the peasants 
were persecuted; but nothing could be got out of 
them ; they had been robbed of their last pennies. 
This comes of popular glory. However cruel was 
their distress, the young queen's subjects suffered 
yet more when they learned that, in Bourdelot 's 
company, she uttered a thousand impieties. This 
was too much. The indignation of the nobles 
became menacing and Bourdelot no longer dared 
to walk the streets unattended. Christina under- 
stood that it was time to yield. 

Perhaps, also, she had wearied of this person- 
age. However that may be, he left during the 
summer of 1653, loaded with gold and recom- 
mended to Mazarin, who thought it politic to 
bestow an abbey on him. Bourdelot played his 



no Princesses and Court Ladies 

new part of abbe, as he had dubbed himself doctor, 
and he diverted Paris with the spectacle of his 
dignity. ' ' Master Bourdelot, ' ' wrote Guy Patin to 
a friend, ''is carried about in a sedan chair, es- 
corted by four great lackeys. Until now he had 
been satisfied with three, sed e paucis diehus 
quartus accessit. He boasts of having performed 
miracles in Sweden." Christina corresponded 
with him imtil his death. He gave her the news 
of Paris, and she consulted him about her health. 

After his departure the country, freed from a 
shameful yoke, began to breathe once more, 
when a new trouble fell upon it. The queen was 
causing all her furniture, her books, her art treas- 
ures to be packed. Before long her intentions 
became evident. On the nth of February, 1654, 
Christina called the senate together and an- 
nounced her resolution to abdicate in favour of 
lier cousin, Charles Augustus. She added that it 
would be useless this time to combat her resolu- 
tion, which was unalterable; that she did not seek 
for advice, but merely for help to carry out her 
plan. 

"This speech," says an old historian, "caused 
such amazement in the assembly that no one 
knew what to answer." 

We are accustomed to see the fate of thrones 
at the mercy of royal or popular caprice. We 
are astonished neither by revolutions nor abdi- 
cations, and this speech might to-day pass for a 
clever witticism. During the seventeenth cen- 



Christina of Sweden iii 

tury, the monarchical spirit had not yet been 
weakened and the case was a very serious one. 
It seemed as though a sovereign and his people 
were bound together by mutual duty ; that neither 
one nor the other had the right of desertion. 
There existed between them a contract sanc- 
tioned by God, since God has chosen and fashioned 
the prince given to the people. Charles V had 
abdicated, and his case has been likened to that 
of Christina; but the example is ill-chosen, 
Charles V was old and infirm. He retired to a 
convent. Even so, it is not sure that he had 
a right to do this; it was said that he often re- 
gretted his act. Christina was young and strong. 
She had no thought of retreat, and she boasted 
loudly of an act which called rather for humility. 
Under such circumstances the forsaking of her 
post was a public calamity. 

She had an inkling of this and expected to be 
blamed. A few days after the dramatic scene 
of February nth she wrote, "I know that the 
play in which I acted was not prepared according 
to the ordinary rules of the stage. It is rare 
that what is really strong and powerful pleases." ^ 
She also said, "I care nothing for the plaudite." 
This is not true. She abdicated partly to be 
applauded by the pit. She had three other 
motives; she was penniless, her queenship bored 
her, Sweden and the Swedes bored her still more. 

^ Letter of February 28, 1654, to Chanut, ex-ambassador from 
France to Stockholm 



112 Princesses and Court Ladies 

The opinion of the pit finds expression in these 
two fragments: "What times are ours, great 
Heaven!" wrote Vossius to his countryman Hein- 
sius. "Queens lay aside their sceptres in order 
to live like private ladies, to devote themselves 
to their own pleasures and to the worship of the 
muses." In the Memoirs of Montglat, on tt^ 
other hand, we read, "An extraordinary event 
took place in Europe this year, the abdication of 
the queen of Sweden. This princess was of a 
capricious temper, and had taken to poetry and 
novels; ... in order to live a romance on her 
own account, she resolved to give up the crown." 

In Sweden the feeling was that of an excellent 
nation incapable of forgetting that Christina was 
the daughter of Gustavus Adolphus. She was 
entreated to remain and, at the ceremony of her 
abdication, her subjects wept. Her demands for 
money, which were by no means moderate, were 
generously granted. She was to receive the 
revenue of vast domains and of several towns, 
amounting' to something like five hundred thou- 
sand francs, A fleet was armed to take her 
where she chose. Then, having performed its 
duty, the affection of the nation began to cool 
towards the ungrateful one. She continued to 
give orders and was reminded that she was no 
longer queen. She showed indecent joy at leav- 
ing Sweden: the people murmured, deeming that 
she ought to spend her revenues in her own coun- 
try. Christina, hearing these things, grew furious. 



Christina of Sweden 113 

Her people had prepared for her the voyage of 
a sovereign; she ran away Hke an adventuress. 

In advance, she had sent her collections, and 
with them her gold and silver plate, the furniture, 
and the crown jewels. It is said that her suc- 
cessor found nothing in the palace but two car- 
pets and an old bed. When she was at a certain 
distance from Stockholm she sent back her 
retinue, cut her hair, adopted men's clothes, high 
boots, took a gun and announced her intention 
of fighting in Flanders under the orders of Conde. 
Sometimes she disappeared ; then again her pres- 
ence here or there was revealed by some escapade. 
At the frontiers of Norway she jumped over the 
line with a hurrah! so glad was she to be out of 
Sweden. A little farther she met, without know- 
ing it, the queen of Denmark, who, disguised as 
a servant, was watching for her at an inn. When 
royal ladies, in those days, threw off etiquette, 
they did not adopt half measures. It was dis- 
covered that while the fleet was awaiting her in 
one port, Christina had sailed from another. Her 
intention was to go and exhibit herself to Europe, 
sure of being received with the plaudits which, 
according to her estimation of herself, she deserved. 

V 

She landed in Denmark, took a fancy name, 
jumped on a horse after a manly fashion, and 
galloped to Hamburg, accompanied by four gentle- 



114 Princesses and Court Ladies 

men in waiting and a few valets, who performed 
the office of maids. Montglat reported, "She 
travels like a vagabond, from province to province, 
visiting all the courts of Europe." She made 
one think of a travelling circus. Every now and 
again she gave a representation. For thCvSe occa- 
sions she improvised a royal retinue, gathered 
together no one knew how, put on gorgeous attire, 
and made a solemn entry into a city, where, with 
a haughtiness that delighted the populations, she 
received the honours due to her rank. Crowds 
hastened to meet her, for she was one of the great 
curiosities of Christendom. She answered the 
official harangues with perfect ease and grace, 
each in its own tongue, presided over feasts given 
in her honour, like a great sovereign, and dis- 
coursed with learned men as with colleagues. 
"She speaks of all things under the sun," said 
one of her hearers, "not like a princess, but like 
a philosopher e Porticu. ' ' ^ 

She enlivened the solemn ceremonies by comic 
interludes of her own invention. Sometimes she 
would "make faces at the crowds that followed 
her."^ Or, with the suppleness of a clown she 
would change her dress in the coach, so as to 
bewilder the lookers-on; they did not know what 
to make of it. At times, in the midst of a grave 



' Letter of Whitelock, ambassador jfrom Cromwell to the court 
of Sweden. 

^ Collection of the State papers of John Thurloe, Secretary of 
Council of State, etc., vol. vii, London, 1742. 



Christina of Sweden 115 

address, she would let fly some tremendous oath 
or some ill-sounding joke, worthy of a young 
woman who at twenty-three had known Martial 
by heart. At times she would take a fish -mon- 
ger's attitude and burst out laughing in the face 
of some great personage who was addressing her. 
In Brussels she tarried several months, and led 
such a life that the "all-powerful hand" which, 
according to her, kept her from falling over preci- 
pices, down which she liked to peep, was kept 
very busy. Many of her contemporaries, in 
Brussels at least, were convinced that the Almighty, 
having doubtless too much to do elsewhere, had 
not always prevented the catastrophe. However 
that may be, whenever she recovered her senses, 
she, by the same occasion, recovered her grand 
royal air. The pit laughed. From the boxes 
came some hisses. 

The performance ended, the curtain down, the 
costumes packed, the improvised retinue dis- 
missed, there remained a young female knight- 
errant who dropped jewels at the pawnbroker's, 
went from inn to inn, and took pleasure in dis- 
appointing sightseers. She was expected in one 
place and appeared in another. She seemed on 
the point of being caught, and vanished in the 
night. She came, went, returned, until fancy 
prompted her to don petticoats once more, to 
play the part of the Swedish queen, and to give 
another representation. 

She gave several at Hamburg, at Brussels, at 



ii6 Princesses and Court Ladies 

Antwerp, at Inspruck, where she added to the 
bill the attraction of her conversion. She had 
already secretly changed her religion in Brussels, 
on the night of Christmas, 1654. But at In- 
spruck she made a public profession of Catholic 
faith (November 3, 1655). 

There have been many discussions, some of 
them very bitter, as to the motives of her conver- 
sion. The event was one of great importance to 
Rome. Of all possible neophytes, the daughter 
of Gustavus Adolphus was the most precious. 
It is natural that the church should have under- 
taken the conversion of Christina with even more 
than its usual cleverness. It is equally natural 
that, having succeeded, it should have attributed 
its triumph to the power of truth and presented 
the abjuration of Inspruck as an effect of divine 
grace, which had revealed the true faith to a 
heretic. It is also natural that, after a victory, 
the echo of which sounded all through Europe, 
filling the hearts of the faithful with joy, the 
papacy should have thrown Noah's cloak over 
the failings of its convert and feigned belief in 
her sincerity. It could trust to the work of time, 
to habit, to a hundred circumstances which might 
come to pass, to complete the work only half 
accomplished. In very truth, the queen's lan- 
guage with regard to the church and its glory 
was somewhat hyperbolicah* What Christina 
really thought on the matter was of minor 

1 Especially in the Maxims. 



Christina of Sweden 117 

importance, and doubtless the Pope was of that 
opinion. 

Of course, Protestants, greatly incensed, rather 
than admit the sincerity of this -conversion, 
accused the queen of hypocrisy. They pro- 
claimed that, very far from having been from 
her early years attracted to Rome and having 
abdicated in order to follow the promptings of 
grace, which was the Catholic version of the story, 
she believed in nothing at all, and had abjured 
Protestantism out of self-interest. According to 
them, the pompous ceremony of Inspruck was 
merely intended to touch the Pope and the Catholic 
sovereigns, from whom the queen of Sweden 
could then, in the hour of need, turn for help. 

In our day, judging the case from a dispassion- 
ate point of view, one is tempted to agree with 
the Protestants. Christina changed her religion 
as she changed her clothes, to astonish the crowd. 
After the secret conversion of Brussels, she wrote 
to a friend in Sweden, where some inkling of the 
truth had penetrated : ' ' My occupations are to eat 
well, sleep well, study a little, talk, laugh, see French, 
Italian, and Spanish plays and thus to pass my time 
agreeably. / no longer listen to sermons.'' ' Elsewhere, 
she declares that her conversion was due to the 
fact that Protestant serm.ons wearied her to death. 
Sermons were her great objection to the reformed 
religion. At Inspruck, her indifference during the 
ceremony of abjuration was much commented 
upon. The same day, in the afternoon, a play was 



ii8 Princesses and Court Ladies 

given in her honour; it is said that she exclaimed, 
"Gentlemen, it is but fair that you should offer 
me a comedy, since I gave you a farce. " No doubt 
the Pope knew the value of this conversion from a 
spiritual point of view, but he was content, for 
the time being, to look upon it as a worldly triumph. 
From Inspruck, Christina went to Rome, where 
a triumphant reception awaited her. 

It was necessary to show the world how impor- 
tant, politically and religiously, was this conver- 
sion. The congregation of ceremonies ordered 
every detail of the entry, deciding that the cardi- 
nals, prelates, ambassadors, and nobles should 
go to meet the queen of Sweden in gilt coaches, 
drawn by six horses and accompanied by numer- 
ous retinues, richly liveried ; that the coach of the 
governor of Rome should be lined with gold and 
silver at the cost of three thousand crowns and 
surrounded by forty persons magnificently clothed ; 
that each noble Roman lady should have a suite 
of thirty-six attendants whose costumes were to 
cost from five hundred to six hundred crowns 
each. The Holy Father on this occasion spent 
one million three hundred thousand crowns. 
When the queen arrived, the Roman tailors had 
been working for six months in view of the pro- 
cession. 

On the 2ist of December, 1655, Christina was 
more firmly than ever persuaded that she was 
the most important personage of Christendom 
£i,nd a marvel among women. Cannon thundered, 



Christina of Sweden 119 

trumpets sounded, troops were drawn up on either 
side of the road, the shops were closed, Rome was 
enjoying a hohday, and the air was rent with 
acclamations. A procession of unequalled mag- 
nificence extended from the Porta del Popolo to 
the Vatican, and at the head of this procession, 
the admired of all admirers, the object of all 
these adulations, was a misshapen little creature 
wearing ' ' many coloured breeches ' ' striding a white 
horse and prancing between two cardinals. In 
this guise she reached the Vatican, where the 
high clergy was ready to receive her and lead her 
to the Pope. She thanked his Holiness. "He 
answered that her conversion was of so high a 
value that the rejoicings in Heaven put to blush 
those that took place on earth." The compli- 
ment was gracious, fit to turn even the most 
humble head, and Christina certainly was not 
humble. 

Henceforth, Rome became her favourite resi- 
dence. Here she gathered together her collec- 
tions, remained for longer periods as time went 
on, and finally, still protected by the Popes, never 
left the city. She greatly tried the patience of 
the successive Popes; all determined to make the 
most of Gustavus Adolphus's converted daugh- 
ter. Her attitude, however, was deplorable. The 
Pope thought it prudent to surround her with 
cardinals. She was by no means in awe of them, 
and carried them off in the whirl of her existence. 
There was no noisy affair in Rome, no scandal, 



I20 Princesses and Court Ladies 

where one did not recognise Queen Christina sur- 
rounded by her admiring cardinals; at mass and 
out walking, she was to be seen with her red 
court. Mad pranks succeeded each other. She 
was insolent with the Roman nobility, greedy of 
honours; she quarrelled first with one, then with 
another, ignoring the fact that she was no longer 
a reigning sovereign. Once, Cardinal Medici hav- 
ing displeased her, she with her own hand bom- 
barded his palace; the trace of the cannon balls 
was still visible a century ago. "Patience," ac- 
cording to her, "is the virtue of those who are 
lacking in courage and vigour." She prided her- 
self on not being patient. 

The Vatican had no great reason to be proud 
of its convert. She loudly proclaimed her aver- 
sion for pious conversations and books of piet}^. 
The first person who spoke to her of penance and 
mortifications was received after a fashion which 
took away all wish to revert to such subjects. 
She rarely took part in church ceremonies and 
when she did she laughed and joked with her 
attendant cardinals, even in the presence of the 
Pope. This could not be tolerated. After a 
scene of this kind, the Pope handed her a rosary, 
advising her to make use of it. Scarcely out of 
his presence, she exclaimed, "He can't turn me 
into a hypocrite ! ' ' Then the Holy Father was re- 
duced to ask for a little ostensible piety, for the 
edification of the crowd. He sent word to Chris- 
tina that, "One Ave Maria recited in public 



Christina of Sweden 121 

would be more acceptable than a whole rosary 
said in private." She obeyed only when her 
purse was empty. 

Christina's finances were a subject of great dis- 
quiet to the court of Rome. Sweden, indignant 
at the change of religion, half ruined by wars and 
troubles at home, was but a poor paymaster. 
Christina spent recklessly, under the pretext that 
"there is an economical way of being extrava- 
gant." She kept up a royal household. She 
completed her collections, which at her departure 
from Sweden had been somewhat despoiled by 
her foreign scholars. Her library had been 
shamelessly pillaged ; out of eight thousand manu- 
scripts only a quarter reached Rome. There 
exists a letter in which Vossius acknowledges to 
Heinsius, with admirable calm, that he was appro- 
priating for his own use non paucus lihellos rariores 
belonging to the serenissimce regina. Large sums 
were necessary to fill the voids. Still larger sums 
were spent from a lack of order of which nothing 
can give an idea. Six months after her arrival 
in Rome, Christina was dunned by her creditors. 
She applied to the Pope who, with the idea of 
reducing her to submission, offered two thousand 
crowns a month if she would behave herself. This 
was too much. The queen, in a towering rage, sent 
her remaining jewels to the pawnbroker, got ten 
thousand ducats for them,' and sailed for Marseilles. 
She knew that France was full of curiosity about 
her, eager to see a singular person, who had been 



122 Princesses and Court Ladies 

dubbed the Sibyl of the North and the tenth 
muse, and who now was known as the "strolHng 
queen." This journey to France was to be Chris- 
tina's last triumph. 

VI 

Mazarin ordered that she should be royally 
received. The magistrates of the different cities 
presented the keys to her; prelates and governors 
delivered fine speeches to her; the towns treated 
her with great magnificence, and their inhabitants 
rushed to see the spectacle and marvelled that a 
queen should travel like an indigent student. At 
Lyons she met the Duke of Guise, sent by the 
king to conduct her to Compiegne, where the 
court was sojourning. The duke wrote to a 
friend: "While I am spending my time somewhat 
lugubriously, I must seek to divert you by por- 
traying the queen whom I have been ordered to 
accompany. She is not tall, but somewhat stout, 
with broad hips, a well-shaped arm, a white and 
pretty hand; she is a man rather than a woman. 
One shoulder is higher than the other, but 
she hides that defect so cleverly by the strange- 
ness of her attire, of her walk and manners, 
that one could wager for or against this de- 
formity." 

Guise describes the queen's well-known face, 
with its aquiline nose and fine eyes, her "very 
strange wig," like that of a man in front and at 



Christina of Sweden 123 

the back like that of a woman. He continues 
thus: "Her bodice, laced behind, is not straight, 
and is made after the fashion of our doublets; 
her chemise shows above the skirt which is ill- 
fastened and awry. She is much powdered and 
pomatumed, and rarely wears gloves. She has 
men's boots, and in point of fact has almost a 
man's voice and quite a man's ways. Her pre- 
tension is to be an Amazon. She is quite as 
proud and haughty as could ever have been the 
great Gustavus, her father. Yet she can be very 
polite, even caressing in her manner. She speaks 
eight languages, especially ours; she has no more 
accent than if she had been born in Paris. She is 
as learned as our academy and our sorbonne put 
together. Indeed, she is a very extraordinary 
person. . . . She sometimes carries a sword and 
wears a buff collar." 

Christina could indeed be "very polite" when 
she chose, but the effort was too great to last. 
Her urbanity was exhausted before she reached 
Compiegne. The grande mademoiselle met her 
on the road and was quite fascinated by her 
flatteries and high air. They went to the play 
together and the grande mademoiselle opened 
her eyes very wide. "The queen swore like a 
trooper," writes she, "threw her legs about, put- 
ting first one, then the other over the arms of her 
chair ; she took attitudes such as I have only seen 
in the case of Trivelin and Jodelet, who are two 
buffoons. . . . She repeated the verses that took 



124 Princesses and Court Ladies 

her fancy ; she conversed on many topics, and that 
quite agreeably. She would indulge in deep rever- 
ies, sigh audibly, then, all of a sudden, come to 
her senses, as though she had awakened from a 
dream: she is quite extraordinary." 

Christina confided to Mademoiselle de Mont- 
pensier that she was wild to see a battle, that 
"she could have no peace of mind until she had 
seen one." This was one of her hobbies. She 
was jealous of Conde's laurels, and dreamed of 
being a great general. 

On September the 8th, 1656, she entered Paris 
by the Faubourg Saint Antoine, escorted by five 
thousand horsemen. She wore a scarlet doublet, 
a woman's skirt, a plumed hat, and rode astride 
a big white horse; pistols were at the holster, and 
she carried a cane. All Paris turned out to see 
her, and the people pressed forward "furiously;" 
as they continued to do whenever she went out 
in Paris. She was taken to receive holy com- 
munion at Notre Dame, and all through mass 
she talked, never a moment remaining quiet. 
She visited the monuments and libraries, received 
the learned men of the day, and caused them to 
admire her knowledge of all French matters. She 
knew about the great families and their heraldry, 
also about the intrigues and gallant doings of the 
court, the tastes, the occupations, the achieve- 
ments of each and all. At last she started to 
join the king at Compifegne. Anne of Austria 
went to meet her. Mademoiselle de Motteville, 



Christina of Sweden 125 

who accompanied the queen mother, has given a 
description of the meeting. 

Christina left her carriage in the midst of such 
a crowd that the two queens were obhged to take 
refuge in a house, to which Louis XIV escorted 
his guest, taking her by the hand. Mademoiselle 
de Motteville followed, unable to see anything but 
the strange creature thus led by the king of 
France. "Her wig that day," wrote she, "was all 
uncurled; the wind, as she stepped from the car- 
riage, blew it awry; the little care she took of her 
complexion, which was anything but white, made 
her look like a wild and bold gipsy that by chance 
was not too black. As I examined this princess, 
all that I saw seemed to me extraordinary, more 
likely to terrify than to please." Mademoiselle 
de Motteville paints the strange gear of the Swed- 
ish queen with her clothes on one side, her big 
shoulder "humped up," her short skirt showing 
her men's boots, and she adds: "After having 
studied her with an attention which sprang from 
curiosity, I began to grow accustomed to her 
dress, her hair, and her face. . . . Then, to my 
amazement, I discovered that she pleased me, 
and in a moment I was quite changed with regard 
to her. She seemed to me less tall than I had 
expected, and less ill-made; but the hands, sup- 
posed to be beautiful, were too dirty to appear so." 

This is a striking instance of the real fascination 
exerted by this strange being. When she chose 
to please, she pleased indeed, despite her ridicu- 



126 Princesses and Court Ladies 

lous costumes, her masculine ways, and her dirt. 
But this fascination did not last. The feelings 
she inspired were as fleeting as her own moods. 
At Compiegne, during the first quarter of an 
hour, she terrified all who saw her; during the 
second, she interested and amused them. She 
was witty and gracious: she provoked admira- 
tion. Before the evening was over, she was feared 
for her impertinence. She borrowed the king's 
valets to undress her and to assist her ' ' in moments 
of the greatest intimacy," and this seemed very 
shocking. The next day, she appeared clean and 
curled, bright and gay; she pleased once more 
She greatly diverted the young king, and all 
would have gone merrily had she not been taken 
with one of her sudden fits of impious swearing 
and of kicking up her heels in her anger. This 
very much astonished the polite court, which 
finally decided that the queen of Sweden must 
be looked upon as one of those heroines of chival- 
rous romance in the days of adverse fortune, when 
Marfise and Bradamante, in a pitiable plight, can 
only eat when by chance they are invited to a 
royal table. The starved fashion in which Chris- 
tina fell upon the collation offered at her arrival, 
added to the deplorable state of her wardrobe, 
authorised these comparisons. Yet, she had her 
partisans as well as her detractors. Christina 
spoiled all her chances of Success by a stupid 
blunder. Being naturally indiscreet, she meddled 
with the king's private affairs. He was then in 



Christina of Sweden 127 

love with Marie Mancini, and this romance greatly 
displeased the queen mother. Christina advised 
Louis XIV to follow his inclinations, and to marry 
the girl he loved. Anne of Austria hastened to 
send away the queen of Sweden, who by no 
means wished to go. 

She was forced to yield. Christina then went 
to see Ninon de I'Enclos and overwhelmed her 
with compliments. She seemed to appreciate this 
person more than any woman, no doubt because 
Ninon's career had proved that she was above 
mere prejudice. Christina wanted to present her 
to the Pope. Luckily, Ninon knew the world too 
well to let herself be tempted. 

The queen once more started for Italy. She 
spent a night at Montargis and the grande made- 
moiselle took it into her head to see her again, 
arriving at ten o'clock. ' ' I was requested, ' ' relates 
Mademoiselle de Montpensier, "to go up alone. 
I found her in a bed where my women slept every 
time I went to Montargis, a tallow candle stood 
on the table ; a towel was twisted about her head 
by way of a nightcap and that head was bald; 
she had recently been shaved; a nightgown, with- 
out a collar, was closed by a great knot of flame- 
coloured ribbon ; her sheets only came up half way 
on the bed, over which was thrown an ugly green 
coverlet. In this state she was not pretty." The 
following day the grande mademoiselle put Chris- 
tina in her travelling coach, which was hired and 
paid for by Louis XIV. 



128 Princesses and Court Ladies 

She found the plague in Rome, spent a few 
months in the north of Italy, then returned to 
France, where her presence was by no means 
desired. Public curiosity had been satisfied. It 
was rumoured that the Pope had entrusted her 
with a mission to bring about a peace with Spain, 
and Mazarin wished for no advisers. In October, 
1657, she arrived in Fontainebleau, during the 
absence of the court, and lodged in the palace." 
She was requested to go no farther until she 
received permission. Then took place a mysteri- 
ous event, which, without the slightest prepara- 
tion changed the comedy into a tragedy. Quite 
another woman, unexpectedly, is here revealed. 
The joyous queen of Sweden, the madcap prodigal, 
the veriest royal Bohemian, becomes, one fatal 
day, bloody Christina, pitiless and ferocious. A 
dark stain sullies this picturesque figure, at which, 
till then, one merely smiled. We can here take 
leave of the old-time Christina. We shall see her 
no more. 

VII 

The queen of Sweden had brought with her to 
Fontainebleau two young Italian noblemen, the 
Marquess Monaldeschi, grand equerry, and the 
Count Sentinelli, captain of the guard ; the favour- 
ite of yesterday and the favourite of to-day. 
Monaldeschi was stupidly jealous of his successor. 
He wrote letters in which the queen was grossly 



Christina of Sweden 129 

insulted, and rendered his offence unpardonable 
by imitating Sentinelli's writing. This, at least, 
is what transpired from the little that is known 
of the mystery; it was never really cleared, for 
the queen's only confident was her valet, Pois- 
sonnet, Poissonnet the impenetrable. At any 
rate, this at least is known. On the morning of 
November 6, 1657, at a quarter past nine, a 
monk of Fontainebleau, Father Le Bel, prior of 
the Trinitaires, was sent for by the queen. She 
imposed secrecy upon him and gave him a sealed 
parcel, which he was to return to her whenever 
she called for it. 

On the following Saturday afternoon, Novem- 
ber loth, at one o'clock, the queen again sent for 
him. Father Le Bel took the sealed parcel, think- 
ing that it might be needed, and was introduced 
into the "galerie des cerfs," where he found the 
queen. She was standing talking on indifferent 
matters with Monaldeschi. Near them was Senti- 
nelli, and a little farther two Italian soldiers. 
Father Le Bel, in the " Narration " he left of this 
tragedy, confesses with simplicity that as soon 
as he entered he began to be much afraid, for the 
valet who introduced him banged the door when 
he left the gallery. The monk, however, ap- 
proached the queen ; her manner instantly changed, 
and in a loud voice she claimed the parcel. She 
opened it, took out some papers which she showed 
to Monaldeschi, asking him with great violence 
whether he recognised them. Monaldeschi grew 



130 Princesses and Court Ladies 

pale, tried to disclaim all knowledge of them, 
finally confessed that he had written these letters, 
fell at the feet of his mistress, and implored his 
pardon. At the same moment, Sentinelli and the 
two soldiers drew their swords. 

The scene which ensued was frightful. It lasted 
two hours and a half. We owe all the details 
to Father Le Bel, who, by a not unfrequent phe- 
nomenon, remembered them all, in spite of the 
horror with which he was filled. 

When he saw the weapons, Monaldeschi rose 
from his knees and ran after the queen as she 
crossed the gallery, speaking "without stopping," 
trying to justify himself, "greatly importuning 
her." But Christina showed neither anger nor 
impatience. Father Le Bel noticed that as she 
walked she used "an ebony cane with a rounded 
top." She listened to the supplications for a 
little more than an hour, then, going to the monk, 
she said gently to him, ' ' Father, I leave this man 
in your hands, prepare him for death; minister 
to his soul." The monk, "as terrified as though 
the sentence had been pronounced against my- 
self," threw himself at her feet and implored the 
pardon of the poor wretch who grovelled at her 
side. She coldly refused, went to her own apart- 
ments, where she talked and laughed, quietly and 
peaceably. 

Monaldeschi could not believe that all was over. 
He dragged himself on his knees, crying and im- 
ploring his executioners. Sentinelli was moved 



Christina of Sweden 131 

to pity. He left the gallery but came back very 
sad, saying with tears, "Marquess, think on God 
and your soul; you must die." Monaldeschi "be- 
side himself," sent Father Le Bel, who, sobbing, 
prostrated himself before Christina imploring her 
"by the wounds of the Saviour" to have pity. 
She, "with a serene and composed face . . , 
replied that she was very sorry but that it was 
impossible to grant this request." 

And all this lasted another hour. During still 
another, the poor man refused to resign himself 
to his fate. Several times he began his confes- 
sion, and his anguish choked him. He cried out, 
he implored all to intercede for him once more. 
The queen's chaplain having entered, he embraced 
him as a possible saviour, and sent him to the 
queen. Then, once more Sentinelli went to the 
barbarous woman. Christina turned the "coward 
who was afraid of death" into ridicule, and sent 
away Sentinelli with these horrible words, "Force 
him to make his confession, then wound him."^ 
Sentinelli "pushed Monaldeschi against the wall 
at the end of the gallery, where hangs the Saint 
Germain painting, ' ' ^ and dealt him a first blow. 
Monaldeschi was unarmed. With his hand he 
attempted to avert the sword, and three fingers 
fell to the floor. Covered with blood, the poor 
wretch received absolution, and then a disgusting 
butchery began. The marquess wore a mail shirt 
so that the blades could not penetrate. His exe- 

* Motteville. * Narration of Father Le Bel, 



132 Princesses and Court Ladies 

cutioners cut at the face, the head, the neck, 
wherever they could. Covered with wounds, half 
dead, Monaldeschi heard a door open, caught 
sight of the chaplain, and took to hoping once 
more. He dragged himself toward the priest, 
leaning against the wall, and sent him once more 
to cry for mercy. As the chaplain left, Senti- 
nelli ended his victim's agony by running his 
sword through the throat. It was then three 
quarters past three. 

The effect produced on the public was disas- 
trous. Every heart was filled with horror. So 
much cold cruelty for a man, once loved, seemed 
the act of a savage. It was with a sort of horror 
that one thought of this young woman conversing 
about trifles, politely interrupting herself to refuse 
Monaldeschi's pardon, then quietly resuming her 
conversation, while close at hand her former 
lover was undergoing his cruel agony. How many 
times, during the remainder of her life, this murder 
of Monaldeschi was thrown at her ! Why — she 
could never understand. 

On the news of the event, Mazarin sent Chanut 
to Fontainebleau to warn the queen of Sweden 
not to show herself in Paris for fear of the people. 
Not long ago ,^ Christina's answer to the cardinal 
was discovered. The letter, written by herself, 



1 The letter was discovered in the Archives of the Foreign 
Office by M. A. Geffroy, who published it in the Recufil des instruc- 
tions donn^es aux ambassadeurs et ministres de France en Inede, 
Paris, 1885. 



Christina of Sweden 133 

evidently in a state of rage, is crooked, ink- 
stained, and almost illegible. 

' ' My Cousin : — Monsieur Chanut, a good friend 
of mine, will tell you that all which comes from you 
is received by me with respect; and if he did not 
succeed in arousing in my soul the abject terrors 
to which he would willingly have given rise, it 
was by no lack of eloquence on his part. But, 
to tell the truth, we Northerners are of a some- 
what rough nature and not much given to fears. 
You will therefore forgive me if the communica- 
tion thus made to me did not have all the success 
you expected of it. I beg to assure you that I 
should be glad to please you in all things, save in 
harbouring the slightest tremor. You know that 
men of more than thirty do not believe in sorcery. 
For my part, I find it easier to strangle people 
than to fear them. As to my conduct toward 
Monaldeschi, I assure you that were he still living, 
I should not sleep to-night before seeing that the 
deed was accomplished. I have no reason to 
repent. (Here some illegible words.) This is all 
I have to say on the subject. If you are satis- 
fied, I shall rejoice ; if you are not, I shall remain 
unchanged and shall, all my life, be your affec- 
tionate friend 

Christina." 

This letter was not likely to mend matters. 
Christina was left to herself at Fontainebleau 
during the next three months. She asked for an 



134 Princesses and Court Ladies 

invitation from Cromwell, to whom tragedies were 
familiar, but he "pretended not to understand." 
She insisted on going to Paris during the carnival 
(February, 1658), frequented places of public 
amusement, under a mask, was treated icily by the 
queen mother, and almost turned out of doors. 
Before she left, she assisted at a sitting of the 
French Academy.^ The Academy, taken by sur- 
prise, first exhausted the collection of its poets' 
verses, such as the madrigals of the Abbe de Bois- 
robert, a sonnet on "the death of a lady," by the 
Abb6 Tallemant, a little love song by Monsieur 
Pellisson, verses by the same "on a sapphire that 
had been lost and found again." Then, to fill 
up the time, the dictionary work was resumed. 
The word jeu was discussed, and the chancellor, 
turning toward the queen, said gallantly that 
doubtless the word "would not displease her 
Majesty, and that, surely, that of melancholy 
would have been less welcome." Then, this was 
given as example : Jeux de princes qui ne plaisent 
qu'a ceux qui les font. (Princely games agreeable 
only to those who play at them.) This looked 
terribly like an allusion to the death of Monal- 
deschi. All eyes were turned toward Christina, 
who blushed, lost all self-control, and tried unsuc- 
cessfully to laugh. Almost immediately after this 
she took her leave, accompanied, with many bows, 
by "Monseigneur le Chancelier" and all the 
academicians. Such was the farewell of Chris- 

* Memoirs of Cotirart. 



Christina of Sweden 135 

tina to Paris. She started the next day, with 
money given by Mazarin, and went to Rome in 
order to make the Pope's Hfe a burden to him. 



VIII 

And that was the end of our brilHant Chris- 
tina. She still had thirty years of life before 
her, and that long period of time was one long 
downfall. She still loved to astonish the world, 
and the world refused to be astonished. She 
insisted, and was voted insupportable. The world 
is not tender to old heroines. She was soon called 
the "shaved adventuress and intriguer." People 
wondered, with much distrust, for what services 
Mazarin had given her two hundred thousand 
francs. This vagabond, who without shame 
knocked at closed doors, became less and less 
interesting. She was still feared, for she was 
clever and unscrupulous; she was no longer es- 
teemed, as in justice she could not be. On her 
return from France she committed an act more 
criminal, lower even than the murder of Monal- 
deschi. . She did not blush — she, the ex-queen 
of Sweden, she, on whom her people had lavished 
fidelity and kindness, she who had deserted 
her post to wander all over the world — she did 
not blush to send Sentinelli to the Emperor of 
Germany with this message, that, "Since Charles 
Augustus, King of Sweden, did not give her the 



136 Princesses and Court Ladies 

pension of two hundred thousand crowns a year, 
which had been agreed upon, and left her in want, 
she begged the emperor to lend her twenty thou- 
sand men under the orders of General Montecu- 
culli, as with such an army she felt sure of 
conquering Pomerania (which belonged to Sweden) 
where she had many adherents. She would keep 
the revenues during her lifetime, and after her 
death Pomerania should return to the empire." 
Thus she offered to carry war into her own coun- 
try, for a question of money, because Sweden, 
ruined partly through her own fault, did not pay 
her regularly. This creature had no spark of 
royal honour in her soul. She belonged to the 
^ castvshe herself had called "the rabble of kings." 

The negotiation came to nothing, we do not 
know why. 

The Pope did his best to shape into some sort 
of dignity this deplorable existence. He gave 
Christina a revenue of twelve thousand crowns; 
then he sent her a steward to keep her accounts 
and direct her household. His Holiness 's choice 
fell upon a young cardinal, Dece Azzolini, a 
"handsome man, of an agreeable countenance," 
witty and well-read, clever, supple, selfish; "he 
spent most of his time in amorous discussions." 
The steward's success was overwhelming. Ac- 
cording to the queen, he was "divine," "incom- 
parable," an "angel." She likened him to her 
favourite hero, Alexander the Great. Azzolini, 
by way of acknowledging the favours showered 



Christina of Sweden 137 

upon him, rendered real services. He brought 
about serious reforms in the household, stopped 
the robbing and waste, redeemed the jewels and 
the plate. He could not, however, with twelve 
thousand crowns keep up a court, buy rare curi- 
osities, and yet make the two ends meet. The 
wrangling with Sweden continued, so did the 
negotiations with usurers and the quarrels about 
money. Christina's correspondence with her 
agents wearies one to death. One hears of nothing 
but expedients, compromises, and double-dealings. 
She had none of the dignity of a self-respecting 
person, who applies to no one for help. 

Expedients are a terrible curse to a princess. 
Christina knew another sorrow which many had 
predicted to her at the time of her abdication: 
she regretted the crown. When she had enjoyed 
liberty to the full of her bent, shown her doublet 
to courts and to the rabble, she wanted something 
new. What? That she could not tell. What 
theatrical part could she now adopt? That was 
a puzzle. She had not given up the hope of 
blooming out as a great general, but the sover- 
eigns of Europe seemed by no means eager to 
confide their armies to her care. She thought of 
becoming queen once more — or king — accord- 
ing to the choice of the people. 

In 1660, she heard of the death of her cousin 
and successor, Charles Augustus. He left a son 
four years old, Charles XI, sickly according to 
Christina ; in robust health according to the states 



138 Princesses and Court Ladies 

of Sweden. The queen started for Stockholm, 
under the pretext of looking after her pension, 
crossed Germany in all haste, entered Hamburg 
August 18, 1660, and was respectfully requested 
by the government not to visit Sweden. What- 
ever might be her projects, she had sown the 
wind to reap the whirlwind, and the government 
feared her presence. By way of answer she sailed 
at once. The regency received her with great 
honours and kept strict watch over her. She was 
imperious, imprudent ; she wounded the nation by 
making a show of her Catholic faith. The people, 
growing hard and insolent, destroyed her chapel. 
The Swedish clergy came to remonstrate with her 
and saw the proud Christina shed tears of rage. 
She sent the states a "Protestation," in which, 
should little Charles XI die, she put in her claims 
to the throne. An hour later the states sent her a 
formula of renunciation which she was to sign 
under penalty of forfeiting her pension. Chris- 
tina's signature, it is said, shows the violence of 
her anger. After many petty persecutions she 
was pushed out of the country. 

Such a reception would have disgusted her for- 
ever, had she not known that, in spite of all, the 
daughter of Gustavus Adolphus still had parti- 
sans. Thus only can we explain her second 
attempt of 1667, which resulted in a still more 
crushing disaster. The senate and the regency 
agreed that: "Her Majesty, Queen Christina, 
should not be allowed to reenter the kingdom 



Christina of Sweden 139 

or any of its provinces, with the exception of 
Pomerania, Bremen, or Verden; still less was she 
to appear at his Majesty's court." On the road 
to Stockholm a messenger sent post haste met 
her at past midnight. He brought her such hard 
and mortifying orders that she instantly ordered 
horses, and left Sweden never to return. From 
a letter of Peter de Groot, ambassador from Hol- 
land to Sweden, we learn that the death of Monal- 
deschi was all through the land a dark stain on 
her glory. 

As she passed through the duchy of Bremen, 
she visited the Swedish camp, commanded by 
Wrangle, who had served under her father. Chris- 
tina wished to show all she knew. Brilliantly 
uniformed, astride a prancing steed, she rode up 
and down the ranks, commanding the manoeuvres. 
Naturally she made numberless mistakes, which 
Wrangle, hiding a smile, repaired as best he 
could. Christina continued, unabashed, for 
nothing could persuade her that she was not born 
to be a great captain. At that time she was 
intriguing for the throne of Poland, and her agents 
were representing her as capable of commanding 
an army. "I vow," wrote she, " that the hope of 
doing this alone made me wish for the throne of 
Poland." 

This Polish plot is the strangest of her strange 
adventures. Christina's master-stroke is certainly 
that of having persuaded the Pope to second 
her pretensions to the throne, left vacant by the 



I40 Princesses and Court Ladies 

abdication of John Casimir. The papers relating 
to the negotiations have been published, and no 
authors of a spectacular piece ever imagined so* fan- 
ciful a bit of diplomacy. The Pope recommends 
Christina in a brief in which he praises her * ' piety, 
prudence, her masculine and heroic courage." 
Christina wrote to the nuncio : "As to the piety 
which the Pope mentions in his brief, let me tell 
you that I am by no means sure of the wisdom of 
such a boast ; I doubt whether I deserve it, and I 
doubt still more whether they would appreciate it." 
The Polish Diet, alarmed at so unexpected a 
candidature, hastened, without much order, to 
present some objections. Christina found answers 
to all. Her sex was a drawback? She would be 
king not queen, and command the army. What 
more could the Poles desire ? The death of Monal- 
deschi? " I am in no humour to justify myself of 
this Italian's death." Besides, she had taken care 
"that the sacraments should be administered to 
him before the end." Her violence was feared? 
"As to the beating of a few valets, even if I had 
administered the blows myself, I do not think such 
a trifle need exclude me from the throne, for, in 
that case, Poland would find no king." The 
Diet was not to be persuaded, and Christina 's can- 
didateship fell to the ground. 

This Polish venture was but child's play com- 
pared with others. Christina was not to be 
daunted; she believed that the world belonged to 
those who dare and who risk all. "Life is busi- 



Christina of Sweden 141 

ness," said she, "in which one cannot make money 
without risking to lose it. . . ." She turned her 
back on Poland, She had thought to do as much 
for the Fontainebleau incident, but here she met 
with an obstacle on which she had not counted, — 
the world's conscience. She was astonished to 
find it ever before her. What a singular thing 
eternally to reproach her with Monaldeschi's 
death! It was, after all, so very simple. "One 
must," wrote she, "punish crime as one can, 
according to the forms of justice, if possible; but, 
when that is out of the question, by other means." 
She pitied people for entertaining such low scruples 
as to make so much of a servant's death, killed 
by order of a queen. From time to time, so as to 
hush the importunate murmur which arose about 
her, she would burst out: "Write to Heinsius 
from me . . . that all this fuss which he makes 
about Monaldeschi seems to me as ridiculous as 
it is insolent. I am willing that all Westphalia 
should deem Monaldeschi innocent; it is to me a 
matter of absolute indifference." This letter is 
dated August 2, 1682, twenty -five years after the 
crime. And the murmur would not be hushed. 
It never has been. 

It is said that the shade of Monaldeschi sat at 
Christina's death bed, like the ghost of Banquo 
at Macbeth 's banquet. This is merely a romantic 
invention. She put this trifle to one side and 
forgot it. 

The second voyage to Sweden closes the adven- 



1^1 Princesses and Court Ladies 

tures of Christina in Europe. Not that she lacked 
an itching desire for adventure. In 1675, she 
applied to the court of Vienna, renewing her de- 
mand for troops in order to detach Pomerania 
from Sweden. These shameful negotiations lasted 
for more than a year. Repulsed by the emperor, 
she turned to France to whom she proposed that, 
during the Swedish internal troubles, means 
should be found to revoke the laws against Catho- 
lics. Her Swedish Majesty did not neglect to 
mention the price she put on her* intervention. 
(Letters and despatches of 1676 and 1677.) Not 
having succeeded with France, on the rumour that 
Charles XI had been killed by a fall from his 
horse, she once more turned her attention to 
Sweden (1682). Then came the news that the 
king was alive and well. Later, when she was 
raore than sixty years of age, Christina wanted to 
leave Rome because she was not longer treated 
like a queen. She had already quarrelled on that 
score with Pope Innocent XI, who carried economy 
so far that, according to a legend, he spent but 
half a crown a day for his meals. He found it 
intolerable to pay twelve thousand crowns a year 
to a very troublesome queen: he suppressed the 
pension. Yet Christina remained, not knowing 
where else to go. 

The days of cavalcades were past. This vaga- 
bond of a queen is now forced to keep quiet. She 
is old, "very fat and heavy," with a "double 
chin, short and rough hair." She still wears her 



Christina of Sweden 143 

doublet, her short skirt, her thick boots. "A 
sash tied over the doublet showed the ample pro- 
portions of her waist." ^ Thus decked out, she 
seemed smaller and even less feminine than of 
yore. The many-coloured breeches could no longer 
be donned. One can understand that the Italians 
were puzzled, unable to make out her real sex. 
Farewell to the amazon! The scholar took her 
place and kept it. At the time of her quarrel 
with the Pope, Christina was much tempted to 
put herself at the head of her guards. The Pope 
spared her this last feat, by ignoring her threats. 

Of the scholar, there would be much to say. 
She was one of those philosophers who believe in 
quack predictions and was too much engrossed 
in astrology and alchemy to be taken very seri- 
ously. She believed that astronomy should be 
subjected to a religious censorship; she wished 
Rome to suppress all heretical portions of this 
science. On the other hand, her influence was 
not favourable to the numerous academies she 
founded or protected. Was it necessary to as- 
semble prelates, monks, and scholars in order to 
discuss the following subjects: "Love comes but 
once in a lifetime. It gives eloquence to those 
who are not naturally eloquent. It inspires chas- 
tity and temperance. One can love without 
jealousy; never without fear." 

In 1688 she had a severe attack of erysipelas. 
It was a warning. She understood it and put 

' Misson, New Voyage to Italy, ii vol. 



144 Princesses and Court Ladies 

all in order for her last representation. She 
wished it to be original, rich, and singular, in order 
once more to astonish the world. She invented 
a sort of gown which partook of the skirt and of 
the mantle and had it made "of white brocade, 
embroidered with flowers and other gold orna- 
ments ; it was to have buttons and gilt trimmings, 
with a fringe of the same around the bottom of 
the skirt." On Christmas eve she tried it on, 
to see what effect it would produce on her court. 
The costume fitted well. God could now raise 
the curtain and allow her to die. 

The Divine Manager gave her a respite of three 
months wherein to reflect that, perhaps, the 
comedy had a sequel in the next world. Then He 
gave the signal. In April of that year, 1689, 
Christina grew rapidly weaker. When she was 
incapable of discussion, Cardinal Azzolini, her 
major-domo, presented a testament for her signa- 
ture, assuring her that it was "advantageous for 
her Majesty's household." Christina, without 
reading it, signed the paper. The will made Azzo- 
lini her heir. The furniture and collections were 
worth millions. She died soon after, April 19, 
1689. If the dead can see what goes on in the 
world, she must have been satisfied. The apo- 
theosis of the fifth act was gorgeous. 

She was clothed in the fine costume of brocade, 
covered with gold trimmings, -a royal crown was 
placed on ner head, a sceptre in her rigid hand, 
and, in a magnificent coach, she was taken to the 



Christina of Sweden 145 

church of Saint Dorothea, that of her parish, 
where she lay in state. Three hundred tapers 
flooded the church with their light. It was 
draped in black, decorated with escutcheons of 
white mock marble, which "seemed to point to 
the vanity of life and the certainty of death." 
Toward evening men carried the bed in parade 
to Saint Peter's. Scholars and artists led the 
way; then came sixteen confraternities, seventeen 
religious orders, five hundred other monks with 
lighted tapers, the clergy of Saint Dorothea and 
of Saint Peter, the household of Christina in 
mourning, Christina herself, more magnificent than 
ever, for over her was thrown a great royal violet 
mantle, edged with ermine. Following the body 
were lords and cardinals, officers and archbishops, 
equerries and valets, gilded coaches and gaily 
decked horses, a shimmering of satins and em- 
broideries, a nodding of plumes, a mixture of 
liveries, bright uniforms, and church vestments. 
It was as fine a sight as that of Christina's entry 
into Rome. Crowds pushed forward to see her, 
and decidedly the brocade robe was becoming; it 
hid the heavy form and hunched shoulder. It 
was a most successful funeral : Plaudite, cives! 

This was her cry even in death; she never 
knew any other. The Autobiography claims 
plaudits for Christina in swaddling clothes, for 
the baby that did not fear new faces, that did 
not sleep during speeches: Plaudite, cives! Ap- 
plaud the schoolgirl, the incomparable horse- 



146 Princesses and Court Ladies 

woman, the unequalled scholar, the unrivalled 
sovereign, man and woman in one, the great 
stateswoman, the great general, the great lover! 
Applaud the joyous student, cap on ear, the bold 
and clever adventuress, the tragic queen who 
kills, as in the noble days of olden despotism, the 
eighth wonder of the world, the prodigy of her 
day: Plaudite, cives! 

The play ended magnificently at Saint Peter's, 
where the body was placed in a coffin, enclosed 
in a vault, and Christina awaited the verdict of 
posterity. 

This verdict is somewhat contradictory. Some 
historians have praised her, dazzled by so many 
brilliant qualities. Most have condemned her, 
indignant at her ferocity, at the indecenc}^ of her 
life, at her cowardly treason for which she hoped 
to reap golden rewards. To-day, stirring up the 
dust of old documents, wherein lies the record of 
Christina's existence, we no longer see the bright 
eyes, the joyous smile, the tomboy gestures. 
We no longer hear her witty and insolent repar- 
tees. We no longer feel the equivocal grace of 
this feminine cavalier. But we read the narra- 
tive of Father Le Bel, the correspondence with 
Montecuculli and with the emperor, the propo- 
sitions to France in 1676-1677, the violent dis- 
cussions on money matters with Sweden. Neither 
the talents of Christina, nor .her superior intelli- 
gence, nor her courage, can save her from an 
implacable judgment. She was beyond the 



Christina of Sweden 147 

bounds of all honest and responsible humanity. 
This crooked body contained a crooked soul, 
which knew neither right nor wrong. This bril- 
liant Christina, almost a genius, was, morally, a 
veritable monster. 



THE MEMOIRS OF AN ARAB PRINCESS 

The life of the Arab woman is little known to 
us, and her feelings and ideas must be left to the 
imagination. It is fairly safe, however, to say 
that, being a mere sensual little animal, she can 
be led only by fear. It is equally safe to accord 
her much pity, though not unmixed with con- 
tempt, and to believe that any princess of the 
Far East would be happy to change places with 
one of our street sweepers. Very few of these 
ladies have tried the experiment, however, and 
none have given us the benefit of their impres- 
sions; we are free, therefore, to believe what best 
suits our fancy. 

But here is one who has chosen to favour us 
with her confessions.^ A sultan's daughter, after 
having lived twenty years as a Mussulman high- 
ness, ran away with a Hamburg merchant, and 
for twenty more years has led the life of a good 
German housekeeper. In her new surroundings 
she learned more or less to analyse her impres- 
sions, and she published her Memoirs. The 
object of her candid book is to compare the first 
part of her life with the second, and her Arab 
family with her Christian one.„ If the volumes of 

^ Memoiren einer Arabischen Prinzessin, by Emile Ruete. 
(II vol. Berlin.) 

148 



Memoirs of an Arab Princess 149 

the fugitive, whose Christian name is Frau Emilie 
Ruete, should ever fall into the hands of one of 
her country people, he, in his heart, would blame 
her for having opened to the eyes of all, her 
father's harem, and revealed the secrets of a home 
which once was hers. As to us who have not the 
same scruples, these artless pages have all the 
more value that they are written with the con- 
viction that all our preconceived notions would 
be reversed by their perusal. We shall unveil 
the picture of Frau Ruete 's youth, leaving it just 
as she herself painted it. The reader must decide 
for himself whether or not her conduct was wise 
and just. 



She was bom in a palace situated in the island 
of Zanzibar; her name was Salme, and she was of 
a chocolate hue. Her father was the glorious 
Sejjid Said, iman of Muscat in Arabia, sultan of 
Zanzibar, by right of conquest since 1784. She 
probably came into the world somewhere about 
1844, when her father must have been at least 
eighty years of age; but she mentions no dates, 
perhaps because in her world dates and numbers 
are as vague as they are unimportant. These 
good people are spared the mania of calculating, 
a mania which imparts so much dryness to our 
lives and takes from it all charm of fantasy. 
Events for them floated in the space of time, as 



150 Princesses and Court Ladies 

did life itself, measured only by the fact of living. 
Little Princess Salme saw that her father's beard 
was white, that several of her sisters might well 
have been her grandmothers, that one of her 
nephews was almost an old man, and that many 
generations of women had succeeded each other 
in the harem; the chronology of all these things, 
events, and people, was beyond her. How many 
brothers and sisters had she? How many law- 
ful wives had her father? How many unlawful 
wives, or sarari ? ^ She did not know. In her 
family affections, there existed a certain mystery 
and uncertainty which were not without charm. 
She experienced a delightful emotion when, for 
the first time, she entered her father's town harem 
and saw numberless brothers and sisters, quite 
unknown to her. She for a whole day went from 
discovery to discovery, and this greatly interested 
her. 

Her infancy had been spent in the country 
harem of Sejjid Said, near the town of Zanzibar. 
The place was called Bet-il-Mtoui, and it was the 
noisiest and most complicated of palaces. Bet-il- 
Mtoui was originally composed of an immense 
court surrounded by buildings. As the family 
increased, a wing had been added, then a gallery 
and a pavilion; all these buildings were huddled 
together in picturesque confusion. As this had 
been going on for a long time, the palace had be- 
come like a small town harbouring about a thou- 

• Singular, surie. 



Memoirs of an Arab Princess 151 

sand inhabitants. There was so prodigious a 
number of rooms, of doors, of passages, and stair- 
cases, such a tangle of constructions of every 
shape and of every size, that it required long 
practice not to get lost among them. From one 
end to the other of this labyrinth swarmed a 
motley crowd of brown, black, and white women, 
of children, fair or dark, of growling eunuchs, of 
male and female slaves. Water-carriers, cooks, 
negro runners, masseurs, nurses, embroiderers, in 
one word, the never-ending domesticity of Eastern 
lands, hurried to and fro. Brilliant colours enliv- 
ened the costumes, jewels sparkled on the women's 
arms, ears, necks, legs, heads. Even the beggars, 
affirm.s Princess Salme, wore jewels; not one 
woman in Zanzibar went without anklets or brace- 
lets. Flocks of parrots and of pigeons flew, 
screeched, or cooed in the open galleries, adding 
to the flutter and noise of this ever-moving crowd, 
which spoke a dozen different languages and dia- 
lects. The eunuchs scolded the slaves, and sent 
them about their business with a whip. The 
children screamed and tumbled over each other. 
The wooden sandals of the women resounded on 
the marble pavement, and the gold pendants 
about their bare ankles tinkled daintily. 

The court was everybody's passageway, the 
great playground, the refuge of all idlers, the 
hospitable menagerie and farmyard. Quantities 
of ducks, geese, guinea-fowls, peacocks, and flamin- 
goes, of tame gazelles and ostriches, lived here in 



152 Princesses and Court Ladies 

unrestrained freedom. Outsiders, messengers, 
carriers, artisans, shopmen, hustled each other in 
the hurry of their various avocations. At one 
extremity were a dozen tanks, surrounded by cov- 
ered galleries, where, night and day, hundreds of 
men and women bathed. To get to the court one 
passed through an orange grove, the branches of 
which were often laden with a singular sort of 
fruit, chiefly children who had deserved a whip- 
ping, and there sought a hiding place. It was 
also in this immense court that the young princes 
and their sisters learned, under the direction of 
the eunuchs, to mount the thoroughbreds of 
Oman and the great white asses of Mascat. Morn- 
ing and evening they took their riding lessons, 
prancing and galloping on their high, embroidered 
saddles. The strips of gold and silver on the 
harnesses clinked merrily, and frightened birds 
flew before the horses' hoofs. Movement, noise, 
light, colour, everything was spirited at Bet-il- 
Mtoui, and dazzling to the senses. 

In all the palace there was but one quiet and 
silent nook: it was the apartment of old Sejjid 
Sal'd of the snow-white beard. He lived in a 
wing overlooking the sea, and his windows opened 
on a wide, round terrace, surmounted by a pointed 
roof of painted wood and closed with balustrades. 
This construction inspired Princess Salm^ with 
boundless admiration ; she compares it to a merry- 
go-round without the wooden horses. When the 
old man was not busy with his orisons or in giving 



Memoirs of an Arab Princess 153 

audience, he would go alone on his terrace, where 
he could be seen for hours, absorbed and sad, 
walking up and down, limping, for an old wound 
had crippled him. Who can say what cares 
bowed that white head ? There are burdens com- 
mon to all monarchs in every latitude, but Sejjid 
Said had still other cares of which we know 
nothing. Who can guess his*thoughts when one 
of his safari, or his children, craved some favour, 
and he was forced to send them to their common 
tyrant, the legitimate spouse, the imperious hihi 
Azze? 

Bihi is a word of the country which means she 
who gives orders, and is employed at Zanzibar 
in the sense of her Highness. This title belonged 
to a little bit of a woman, without youth, without 
beauty, childless, who ruled Sejjid Said with a 
rod of iron; she often decided even state matters. 
She was the last surviving of Sejjid Sai'd's hihis, 
and she held him under a heavier yoke than was 
ever put on an oppressed Christian husband. It 
is in vain that the Koran has said: "Men are 
superior to women. . . . Husbands lead and their 
wives follow." Bihi Azze did not interfere with 
the Koran, but she had her own way. Quite use- 
lessly had Sejjid Sai'd endeavoured to weaken the 
inevitable influence of the wife by dividing it 
among many; he had added young Persian to 
young Arab maids, to Abyssinian and Circassian 
beauties, until Bet-il-Sahel, his town palace, was 
full, until a third and fourth residence were equally 



154 Princesses and Court Ladies 

overflowing. He still continued to obey the ter- 
rible Azze, and all he got by his tactics was to be 
caught between two fires. On the one hand, the 
herd of sarari always had some request to submit 
to him, and these requests, childish or eccentric, 
had to be decided by his tyrant. The most vivid 
impressions of Princess Salmi's infancy are con- 
nected with this terrible stepmother, whom she 
always remembered as followed by her court, 
haughty, carrying stiffly her diminutive person. 
She struck everyone dumb. Her stepdaughter 
is obliged to borrow a comparison from the Prus- 
sian army, with its inflexible discipline, in order 
to make us understand her own terrified humility 
with regard to hihi Azze. "All those," she says, 
"who crossed her path were crushed as a recruit 
might be before a general." Nothing stronger 
could be said. 

The old sultana rarely left her white palace, 
embowered among great cocoanut trees. Sejjid, 
during four days of the week, dragged his chain 
in her presence. The other three days he spent 
at the joyous Bet-il-Sahel, where there was no 
hihi and where all felt at liberty. He himself 
wore another countenance; he was enjoying his 
holiday. The three days over, he returned to 
submit to Azz^'s caprices and to walk around his 
terrace. How had she conquered him ? By what 
mysterious ties did she hold him? Either from 
ignorance or discretion, Princess Salmd keeps 
silence with regard to this enigma. She merely 



Memoirs of an Arab Princess 155 

refers at different times to the "incredible power" 
exerted by her stepmother over her father. 

Sejjid Sai'd had not always been as submissive. 
In olden times he had known anger comparable 
to that of wild beasts. It was whispered in the 
harem that he had once, sword in hand, rushed at 
a hihi who had misbehaved and that, but for the 
intervention of a eunuch, he would have killed 
her. Old age had softened him, and the valiant 
conqueror of 1784 now seemed a good-natured 
stage king. He was a good deal imposed upon 
at Bet-il-Sahel ; the sarari and their daughters 
went their several ways according to the caprice 
of the moment. Princess Salme, who spent there 
most of her time after she had reached her seventh 
or eighth year, lets us into the secrets of this 
extraordinary household. 

This is the first time that we have been ini- 
tiated, by a competent writer, one whose good 
faith is unimpeached, into the woes of a man at 
the mercy of a hundred or more women. His 
tribulations surpass all we could imagine on the 
subject. It is true that Sejjid Sai'd singularly 
complicated matters. Well on toward his hun- 
dredth year he still caused pretty girls from Asia 
and Africa to be sent to him, and the passions 
of these young persons enlivened the palaces. 
The Abyssinians were distinguished by their 
stormy natures. Jealous and vindictive, they 
flew into rages and sought to revenge themselves. 
The Circassians, less violent, were not any easier 



156 Princesses and Court Ladies 

to govern. They had a just appreciation of their 
superiority, and were very haughty. One of 
these, named Courschit, no longer young, was the 
only person in the whole kingdom capable of defy- 
ing Azze, She had a son whom she governed 
despotically, and by whom she had a finger in 
the political pie. This strong-willed lady occu- 
pied a place apart at Bet-il-Sahel, and with great 
deference each consulted her. Her tall figure, 
her glittering eyes, frightened the little children. 
She was greatly admired for her intelligence, but 
in no way loved. 

None of these primitive creatures had the slight- 
est notion of moral discipline. Nature made them 
good or bad. Custom imposed upon them the 
observance of certain exterior rules. The idea of 
self-control, of self -improvement, was as unknown 
to them as the precession of the equinoxes. If 
their instincts were good, so much the better; if 
they were bad, the fear of punishment was for 
them the beginning, the middle, and the end of 
wisdom. Good behaviour was rendered doubly 
arduous because of race rivalry. Sympathetic 
groups were formed according to nationalities and 
colour, and out of these alliances sprang furious 
friendships and still more furious hatreds. The 
harems of Sejjid Said were fiery centres. Passions 
took on a superb volcanic character, unknown to 
our calmer societies, where we are taught self- 
restraint. Princess Salm^ was struck by this con- 
trast when she arrived in Europe. She concluded 



Memoirs of an Arab Princess 157 

that our feelings are as pale and cold as our sky, 
and she pitied us, for she is tender-hearted. Dur- 
ing twenty years she sought a German woman who 
knew the meanings of the verbs to love and to 
hate, as the least among her countrywomen knew 
them. She never found one, and could not under- 
stand why. Whenever she alludes to these things 
it becomes evident that the Arab and the European 
are by nature utterly at variance. 

Twenty years of Christian and German educa- 
tion have not rendered Princess Salme more 
capable than she was at first of assimilating our 
ways, our thoughts, or our customs. She persists 
in feeling that life has narrowed for her since she 
left her country. If she were capable of abstract 
reasoning, she would say : ' ' You mistake a ghostly 
phantom for life itself; you are amused by such 
vain toys as railways and observatories. In real- 
ity, nothing counts for man except what he has 
felt; one feels more in a single week at Bet-il- 
Sahel than in Berlin during a whole year. My 
father, the great Sejjid Said, knew more about 
human passions than a German philosopher. You 
fancy that a man of the Far East, because he is 
grave and reserved, sleeps away his life; but I, 
a slave's daughter, I who have tasted both cups, 
affirm that it is your life, not his, that is insipid." 

I see very well what we might answer; but I 
also know that the answer would fall upon deaf 
ears. The daughter of Sejjid Said, Christian 
spouse to an honest merchant, in the two volumes 



158 Princesses and Court Ladies 

of her Memoirs does not utter a single word 
against a harem, and she hides nothing which filial 
duty would have bidden her hide had she under- 
stood the ignominy of her mother's position. 
Accustomed from babyhood to Mussulman ways, 
in the depths of her heart she prefers them to 
ours. A little more, and on the strength of her 
experience, she would proclaim the failure of 
Christian marriage; one feels that if she does not 
go quite so far, it is that she does not dare to do 
so. She likes to recall the thoughtless mirth of 
her young friends, their content at the fate that 
awaited them, and to compare it with the stereo- 
typed smiles of a Berlin dame, whose private life 
was stormy enough under its correct appearance. 
"I can declare in conscience," writes she, with 
ingenuous pleasure, "that I have in this country 
heard of amiable husbands who beat their wives, 
whereas an Arab would feel himself degraded by 
such brutality." Her birth destined her to be- 
come a bibi, and, had she the choice, bibi she 
would still be; there is no indiscretion in saying 
so, as Herr Ruete died long ago. His widow does 
not seem to understand that the rivalry of the 
sarari and the struggle against their influence are 
enough to miserably degrade the position of a 
Mussulman wife. 

Let us do justice to her frankness ; she confesses 
that she judges us by the light- of her resentment. 
Frau Ruete, Princess of Zanzibar, suffered from 
our customs and habits. We have lost the respect 



Memoirs of an Arab Princess 159 

for the aristocracy, and that to races who have 
retained it is intolerable. We have inflicted suffer- 
ing on this fallen Highness ; she moans gently over 
little foolish things. We cannot refrain from smil- 
ing, but to her the sorrow was genuine. She 
makes us think of certain tropical birds, the size 
of an emerald, that we are cruel enough to shut 
up in a cage. They roll themselves, shivering, 
in little fluffy balls, hiding their heads under their 
wings, so as not to see their prison ; a prison lack- 
ing sunshine, light, and flowers. One of her great 
griefs was that she was treated by the merchants 
of Hamburg as one of their own set, and not as 
the daughter of a great monarch. She was, for 
them, nothing but Frau Ruete, the dark-skinned 
spouse of Herr Ruete, dealer in cottons and hard- 
ware, who had contracted a queer marriage during 
a business voyage in Africa. "I did not find," 
she pitifully writes, "the attentions to which I 
thought I had a right." She felt her downfall 
very bitterly, and when she was assured that the 
condition of women among us is far superior, that 
human dignity is more respected in a German 
scullery maid than in a sultan's bibi, she thought 
that her fate would have been more enviable and 
glorious and romantic had she fallen in love with 
one of the handsome slaves who, when she went 
out in the streets of Zanzibar, walked before her 
with a great noise of weapons. Among her 
people, when a girl marries, she keeps the name, 
the rank, and the title which she holds from her 



i6o Princesses and Court Ladies 

parents; from this state of things flow many 
adorable adventures on which Princess Salme 
doubtless counted when she eloped. 

Her people are persuaded that unequal mar- 
riages do not exist. Neither the customs nor 
public opinion are opposed to the union of a 
prince and a shepherdess. Nothing untoward can 
come of it, since the shepherdess does not become 
a princess but remains "so and so, daughter of 
so and so." In Arabia, where strength and cour- 
age are still held in great esteem, it is not rare 
that a chief gives his sister or his daughter to a 
slave who has distinguished himself by his valour. 
He is then by right a free man, but nothing more. 
He remains his wife's servant, speaks to her with 
all humility, and calls her "Mistress" or "Your 
Highness." On his wedding evening, a certain 
etiquette is required of him. 

The bride does not rise when her husband enters 
the room. She remains squatting on her heels, 
motionless and dumb, covered with jewels, her 
rich garments redolent with perfumes, her face 
hidden under a black mask trimmed with gold 
and silver; she resembles some magnificent idol, 
recently incensed, still giving forth aromatic per- 
fumes. The bridegroom approaches; she remains 
silent. He is bound to speak first, and in that 
he confesses his inferiority. He addresses her 
with words of homage; she then answers, but does 
not yet remove her mask; he must humble him- 
self still more before he is permitted to contem- 



Memoirs of an Arab Princess i6i 

plate her face. Then he bows as before his sov- 
ereign, and deposits his offering at her feet. If 
he is rich, he offers a treasure. If he is poor, if 
he possesses nothing but his strong arm and his 
gun, he places before her two or three coppers. 

Princess Salme is convinced that marriage does 
not annul distances, and that the respect of an 
ex-slave, who has become the son-in-law of a 
grandee, is as undying as the majesty of his 
spouse. He never reminds her that Mahomet 
said of woman "that she is a being who grows up 
amid ornaments and finery and who eternally dis- 
cusses without reasoning." He must still less re- 
member the passage of the Koran which says that : 
"Men are superior to women on account of the 
qualities with which God has endowed them, thus 
placing them above women. . . . Virtuous women 
should be obedient and submissive. . . . You 
should chide those who rebel . . . you should 
even beat them." The ex-slave is a servant as 
well as a husband, and a king's daughter remiains 
a princess even in the tent of a freedman. This 
is mere romance, you will say. Surely. What 
young girl has not woven her dream of romance ? 
That of the Arab maiden is very simple and primi- 
tive. A prince's daughter dreams of a husband 
who will salute her courteously and not beat her. 

It is easy to guess at the bitter sorrow of a poor 
kibibi,^ who knew nothing of Europe, when, one 
fine morning, she woke to find herself a German 

* Little Highness, little bibi. 



1 62 Princesses and Court Ladies 

housekeeper. We pity her, and very sincerely. 
We cannot go so far, however, as to imagine a 
young German, EngHsh, or French girl of the 
middle classes who would enjoy being a kibibi, 
and who would contentedly play the part of a 
heroine of the Arabian Nights. Princess Salme 
devotes a whole chapter to prove that the fate 
of her Oriental sisters is as dignified as, and more 
enviable than, that of the European women con- 
demned to servile work and sordid occupations. 
As I read her arguments, I recalled a scene noted 
during a voyage. It was on a road of Anatolia, 
one autumn evening. Before us were a couple of 
unequal height and of very different aspect. To 
the left was a grey-bearded man, mounted on a 
horse whose silver trappings tinkled as he went. 
The man wore flowing trousers of some dark 
colour, and weapons were in his sash; the upper 
part of the body was draped in a burnous of fine 
white wool, the hood of which covered his turban. 
In his high-backed saddle, his appearance was ex- 
quisitely graceful and haughty. His whole person 
denoted a calm habit of authority. 

To his right trotted mincingly a tiny donkey, 
miserably pack-saddled, with ropes by way of 
reins. A woman, wrapped in an ample blue 
cotton garment, rode, huddled up, astride the 
pack. Her round, hunched body swayed gently 
to and fro, following the movements of her beast, 
and the impression she gave was of something 
very humble, and of no account at all. 



Memoirs of an Arab Princess 163 

These two figures formed a laughable contrast, 
and when they disappeared at a turn of the road, 
one of us said, "The problem of the Eastern 
woman in a nutshell." All Princess Salme's argu- 
ments fall before the remembrance of that shape- 
less little mass, trotting in the shadow of the fine 
horseman. 

II 

There was no compensation for the sufferings 
she endured in Europe. In our world, she found 
nothing which made up for what she had lost in 
hers. Mahometanism had stamped her, and she 
was doomed to the intellectual stagnation of her 
religion and of her race. In Germany she ac- 
quired knowledge, she read and worked, but her 
thoughts remained stationary. Condemned not 
to lose a single idea, not to acquire a single one, 
she lived among us without understanding us, 
without loving us. The meaning of our civilisa- 
tion she always ignored; between her mind and 
ours there was a wall. 

The reasons for this state of things appear in 
that part of her Memoirs where she explains 
the education given to the boys and girls huddled 
together in her family palace. One can hardly 
imagine a system better fitted to fashion minds in 
a mould, and for ever to separate the Oriental 
from the European. These pages, in spite of their 
literary clumsiness, are of vital interest. We all 



164 Princesses and Court Ladies 

know by what infantile simplicity Islamism gov- 
erns the minds and hearts of a hundred million of 
human beings; but we have few opportunities 
of studying the working of this education, except 
from the outside. A Mahometan is a man who 
is essentially secretive. We needed the indiscre- 
tions of a renegade to learn how this unbending 
and closed soul is formed; to what influences it is 
subjected under the paternal roof, and what les- 
sons it receives. Thanks to Princess Salm6, we 
can assist at its development from birth to the 
flowering time of life. 

The years of infancy are given up to the mother, 
whoever she may be, bibi or sarari; this is the 
curse of the sons of the rich, who alone are able 
to afford harems. What the sarari are, we know. 
What their moral influence can be, we guess, even 
when native kindliness serves as an antidote to 
the pernicious atmosphere of such a place. Prin- 
cess Salme had been fortunate, and had been as 
well nurtured as it was possible to be in such a 
place as Bet-il-Mtoui or Bet-il-Sahel. Her mother 
was a robust Circassian, plain and gentle, whose 
history may be told in three lines. She was the 
daughter of farmers who had three children. At 
six or seven she was stolen by wandering maraud- 
ers, who massacred the father and mother and 
took the children into captivity. She never 
shook off this nightmare: she had heard her little 
sister sobbing and crying for their mother all day 
long. At nightfall they were separated, and she 



Memoirs of an Arab Princess 165 

never knew what had become of the others. The 
chances of the slave market had brought her to 
Zanzibar, where the sultan gave her as a plaything 
to his daughters, until the time when she should 
become his own toy. She grew up, lived, and died 
in the harem, resigned and inoffensive, thinking 
but little, and embroidering a great deal. Her 
daughter was tenderly attached to her. 

When the child was born, in one of the innumer- 
able roomis of Bet-il-Mtoui, its eyes were scarcely 
open when two black hands seized it, covered it 
with violent perfumes, and put it in swaddling 
clothes, consisting of a long band, after the fashion 
of Egyptian mummies, the legs straight, the arms 
close to the body. It remained thus, quite stiff, 
for forty days, to keep its spine from deviating. 
After the first week, Sejjid Sai'd paid a visit to the 
mother and gave her the infant's jewels: heavy 
gold loops for the ears, bracelets and anklets. 
After his departure, slaves pierced the poor baby's 
ears six times and passed red silk in the holes. 

On the fortieth day the chief of the eunuchs pre- 
sented himself before the mother. He shaved the 
head of the child according to certain rites, amid 
the fumes of odorous incense. Then the little 
princess was unbound. Her legs and arms were 
burdened with heavy gold bracelets, amulets were 
hung about her neck, a cap of gold cloth placed 
on her head, and massive earrings put instead of 
the threads ; the custom of the country forced her 
to wear these until the day of her death. A silken 



1 66 Princesses and Court Ladies 

chemise, strongly scented, completed her outfit. 
She was placed in a cradle, redolent with strong 
perfumes of jessamine, musk, amber, and rose; 
she was then presented to the friends and neigh- 
bours whose curiosity prompted them to crowd 
the room. An infant, be it the child of a mason, 
is always an interesting object to a woman. A 
birth was the cause of rejoicing in the harems of 
the old sultan, however customary the event might 
be. Even in his extreme old age, Sejjid Sa'id had 
at least five or six children a year. 

Princess Salm6, who brought up several child- 
ren amid the fogs and snows of North Germany, 
always remembered with a sort of wistful regret 
the merry nursery gifts of her own country, — 
jewels, and a scrap of blue or pink silk. She com- 
pares the fate of a German housekeeper — her 
own — with that of an Arab woman, and she 
sighs. Eve, thrust out of Paradise, wept thus 
over the lazy hours, quite free from care, in her 
beautiful garden. Yonder, in Zanzibar, there 
were no stockings to mend, no woollen gloves out 
at the finger tips, no great "wash days." Oh, 
those laundry days in Germany! they seemed the 
very symbol of the hateful law of work to this 
sultan's daughter, whom slaves soothed to sleep 
with great waving fans, and who thought no 
more of work than did the small parrots perched 
beneath her window. Then, ^he did not even 
know the name of flatirons. To-day, she per- 
haps is busy folding sheets and piling up dusters. 



Memoirs of an Arab Princess 167 

Her first years were spent toddling about bare- 
footed in a shift, with other Highnesses of her 
age. As soon as these tots could put two ideas 
together, they took part in the quarrels of their 
mothers and herded according to race. The sons 
and daughters of Circassians soon learned that 
their mothers,^ in the slave market, had brought 
a higher price than the black sarari, and in their 
hearts they despised their brethren born of Abys- 
sinians. These returned hatred for hatred. They 
could not see, without anger, a skin white or light 
coloured: such children were dubbed in scorn, 
"sons of cats," because some among them had 
blue eyes. There were subdivisions among High- 
nesses of the same hue. It also happened that, 
from one camp to another, friendships sprang up. 
In this huge family, each one chose a family. 
Each brother had a favourite sister, who became 
his confidante and his ally, and both had their 
chosen stepmothers. And it came to pass that 
those whom one did not like in this wild gyne- 
caeum were held in suspicion, for each thought that 
those who were not friends might well become foes. 

These details in no way shock Princess Salm6. 
They cast no shadow on the sweet and brilliant 
remembrance of the paternal household, object 
of her eternal regrets. It is with perfect calm 
that she describes the trepidation of joy with 
which the denizens of Bet-il-Sahel discover the 
symptoms of consumption in one of the inmates. 
This familiar guest was welcomed, for there would 



1 68 Princesses and Court Ladies 

be soon a free place, a choice room for the others. 
A mere cough, heard on the other side of the wall, 
was at once noted by tender-hearted friends, who 
trembled lest the symptom might be a false one, 
"These thoughts were assuredly to be deplored," 
adds Princess Salmd, "but really there were too 
many of us." Does not this peaceful and indiffer- 
ent tone make one shudder? 

It must be owned that family relationship is 
too extended in those immense harems for its 
bonds to be much felt. It is even strange that 
filial love should exist there at all. This is all 
the more astonishing that it is subjected to great 
shocks. All the princes and princesses were taught 
to respect their father and Bibi Azzd. At Bet-il- 
Mtoui, the first duty of the day, after the bath and 
prayers, was to salute the two great beings and 
to kiss their hands. Sejjid Said graciously re- 
ceived this homage, saw that the jewels of the 
little ones were in good order, their hair weU 
taken care of, and distributed French bonbons to 
the band. Bibi Azz^, with icy coldness, held out 
her small, dry hand to be kissed; it is true that 
these girls were not of her blood, that the boys 
had taken the place of those she might have 
borne; that they were all indifferent to her, even 
when they did net irritate or annoy her. After 
the ceremony of the hand kissing, the family went 
to breakfast, and the sarari's children could com- 
pare their dignity with the humility of those who 
had given them birth. 



Memoirs of an Arab Princess 169 

The table was spread in a gallery or some large 
hall. It was not half a foot high, but long enough 
to accommodate the sons, grandsons, and their 
descendants, the daughters, granddaughters, and 
their descendants. The sultan took his place at 
the head, seated Eastern fashion on a rug, and his 
superb line of descendants, on either side, were 
placed according to age, the two sexes mixed to- 
gether. The married princes, who lived outside, 
brought their sons. Bibi Azze came when she 
chose, as did also the sister of Sejjid Said. Not 
one surie, were she mother of the heir to the 
throne, could ever eat at the royal table. In the 
immutable hierarchy of the palace they were, so 
to speak, the illegitimate and stigmatised mothers 
of the master's legitimate and glorious children. 

They were equally absent from the evening fes- 
tivities. After the dinner, which was the repeti- 
tion of the breakfast, Sejjid Said left his apartments 
and sat on a European chair. His prodigious pos- 
terity stood to the right and to the left of him, 
the young children standing out of respect for 
their elders, the others seated. A little in the 
background, the eunuchs, in fine garb, stood 
against the wall. When all were settled, the 
evening pleasures began. Coffee and syrups were 
offered, and a monstrous barrel organ was brought, 
so immense that, in Europe, Princess Salme never 
saw its like. A slave turned the handle, and the 
sultan listened solemnly. Sometimes a musical 
box took the place of the organ, or a blind woman 



lyo Princesses and Court Ladies 

sang Arab songs. This lasted an hour and a half, 
then Sejjid Said rose and retired to his apartments. 
This was the signal for all to leave. The follow- 
ing evening was like this one, and so on from 
year's end to year's end; there was never the 
slightest change either in the order of the diver- 
sions or in the etiquette which decided those who 
were allowed to enjoy them. 

Thus, everything contributed to make the chil- 
dren of the sarari understand that their mothers 
were inferior beings who, thanks to them, had a 
shadow of importance which must necessarily be 
lost in losing their offspring. They knew that 
the surie, whose child had died, could once more 
be sold, and "narrow-hearted" Arab husbands 
often made use of that right. They also knew 
that in widowhood their mothers would depend 
upon them, no law providing for them, at least 
in Zanzibar. The surie, whom her sons and 
daughters abandoned, was forced to beg, if no 
kindly person came to her rescue. A niece of 
Princess Salme, called Farschu, was the daughter 
of a violent and passionate Abyssinian. Farschu 
lost her father and inherited his riches, quarrelled 
with her mother and abandoned her. The old 
surie tried to earn her bread by working, failed, 
and would have died of hunger had not one of her 
ex-sisters-in-law been moved to compassion and 
taken her in. 

Such cases were very rare, and this certainly 
is to the credit of the Arabs. Even when they 



Memoirs of an Arab Princess 171 

saw their mothers treated with contumely, their 
fiUal respect did not waver. They witnessed the 
sensual and indolent lives of their mothers, they 
were mixed up in their evil intrigues, and still 
remained affectionate. The princes of royal blood 
when, at their majority, they left the roof of 
Sejjid Sa'id, nearly always took their mothers with 
them to their new homes. They kept them to 
the end, and, thanks to loving care, gave to their 
old age that dignity which had been so cruelly 
wanting in their youth. Maternity was the com- 
pensation of marriage for the surie. "Her inter- 
course with her children," says Princess Salme, 
"very amply makes up to her for the disadvan- 
tages of polygamy." These words are greatly to 
the honour of the nation that has deserved them. 
They prove a noble nature. However, Europeans 
have some difficulty in understanding that the 
feelings of respect and love inspired by a mother 
should not extend, in some degree, to the whole 
sex. They are ill at ease when they see these 
tender sons yet confine their own sarari to the 
secular fate of mere females. 

Sejjid Said cared for his offspring as well as a 
pater familias so very much encumbered could be 
expected to do. With great curiosity, I have 
sought for passages of the Memoirs which 
might enlighten me as to the sentiments of a 
father who counted his children by the hundreds, 
and I have seen that the heart of the just is a 
very ocean of tenderness. The old sultan rejoiced 



ly^ Princesses and Court Ladies 

in the fabulous number of births in his harems. 
Smallpox, consumption, cholera, and typhus fever 
had done their work, however, so that at his death, 
he left only eighteen sons and as many daughters, 
a much diminished family. Toward the end, 
nature had not quite filled up the fast thinning 
ranks. So many joys and so many sorrow^s would 
have blunted shallow feelings. His sentiments 
remained constant, and his daughter remembers, 
with emotion, having seen him weep and pray at 
a son's deathbed, he who was so very old and still 
had "more than forty children." 

It really seems as though he knew them all. 
We have already seen that he cared for their 
appearance. He saw that they went to school, 
and, in person, recommended the school mistress 
not to spare the rod. He took the boys out with 
him, and caused blows to be administered to the 
riding masters whose pupils were in fault. This 
was wise and right, since the masters were free to 
punish their pupils. "My father was convinced 
that, in spite of his orders, they were too indul- 
gent toward the princes." When the little fel- 
lows were very naughty indeed, they were taken 
to their father who scolded them. A "very arro- 
gant" brother had shot at little Salme with an 
arrow and wounded her in the side. "My father 
said, * Salme, go and tell Hamdam to come to me.' 
I had scarcely entered with my brother, when he 
had to listen to such terrible words that surely 
he never forgot them." Sejjid Said made pres- 



Memoirs of an Arab Princess 173 

ents to his children, gave dowries when the time 
came, and condemned himself to listen, in their 
company, for one hour and a half, to the big 
barrel organ and the musical boxes. How 
many Christian fathers do no more, without 
having the same excuses! How many merely 
act as the exterior guard of the souls intrusted 
to their care, without ever inquiring into the 
thoughts of the child, his desires, or his secret 
sorrows. 

In education at Bet-il-Mtoui, learning had but 
a small part, and yet the importance of it was 
great. Instead of science, method was taught; 
and this formed a habit of mind which nothing 
could change. In this aristocratic land, one is 
struck with the fact that the studies were the 
same for the heir-apparent to the throne, and for 
a slave whom his master wished to educate. 
There was but one school for all, and in that 
school but one class, strangely mixed and still 
more strangely kept. It was held in one of the 
open galleries of the palace, where the insolent 
birds fluttered at their own sweet will. By way 
of furniture, there was only some matting. A 
crowd of squatting scholars, boys and girls, were 
cowed beneath the stick of a dismal, toothless old 
dame, who distributed learning and blows with 
strict impartiality, and without any distinction 
of age, sex, or rank. The same lesson served for 
a Highness and his black groom, and the same 
punishments were furiously administered by the 



174 Princesses and Court Ladies 

hag, who thus obeyed the sultan's orders. A 
single book was admitted into the class, — the 
Koran. It is not enough to say that it reigned 
in the school: it was the school. 

The beginners learned to read in the Koran. 
As soon as they could spell the words, they were 
taught to read the verses together, very loud, and 
to learn them by heart. In that way they went 
to the end of the book, then began again, once, 
twice, three times, without a word of explanation, 
understanding what they could of the sacred text, 
and fearing to let their minds dwell on it, for they 
knew that it was ' ' impious and forbidden to medi- 
tate on the holy book; man must believe with 
simplicity that which is taught him; all strictly 
observed this precept" at Zanzibar. The first 
duty of a master was to prevent his pupils from 
thinking about their lesson, from having an idea 
or putting a question, so that the habit of mechani- 
cal recitation becomes a second nature. Those 
blessed with a good memory knew about half the 
Koran by heart at the end of the first year. 
Others spent two or three years reciting, through 
the nose, the sourates, before they memorized a 
decent quantity. Now and then, but very 
rarely, a stripling, very bold or very holy, dared 
to understand and comment on the holy text: 
"Perhaps one out of a thousand," says Princess 
Salme. 

The children acquired some slight notions of 
grammar and spelling, and they were taught to 



Memoirs of an Arab Princess 175 

count up to a thousand, never more. "What is be- 
yond," said Mahometan wisdom, "comes from 
Satan." The education of the girls never went 
further ; it was not desirable that a woman should 
know how to write. The boys learned writing by 
copying verses of the Koran, after which their 
studies were ended . The very words ' ' geography , ' ' 
"history," were unknown at Bet-il-Mtoui. As to 
the natural sciences, Princess Salm^ remarks that 
the teaching of them would wound a pious Arab 
to the depths of his soul, as he m.ust never inquire 
into the secrets of nature. This, at any rate, has 
not always been the case, as, even nowadays there 
are pious Arabs who learn astronomy and physi- 
cal sciences without imagining that, by so doing, 
they offend Allah; but Princess Salme can only 
speak of her own people, and those whom she 
knew. The inhabitants of Zanzibar believe that 
it is blasphemy to consider any rules outside of 
God's will, even if those rules emanate from that 
will and are subject to it. They have not, like 
the Turks, been spoiled by European contact ("and 
you see," adds the princess, "if this has been to the 
advantage of the Turks"), and they reject with 
horror the very thought of natural laws. "To 
speak of such things to one of my countrymen 
would shake his whole being, and cause him very 
great disturbance." The orthodox classes of Bet- 
il-Mtoui and Bet-il-Sahel, where the children of 
royal blood were brought up, made perfect Ma- 
hometans according to that ideal. Their educa- 



176 Princesses and Court Ladies 

tion sealed up all the openings by which the mind 
might have escaped to question those mysteries 
to which no answer has ever been found, but the 
seeking after which constitutes the true dignity 
of man. The child left the school, his head stuffed 
with precepts which it was considered impious to 
analyse, and outside of which it would have been 
an abomination to look for an explanation of the 
world and of life. It was the pupil's duty to apply 
these precepts without reasoning any more than 
he did when he sang in a falsetto voice with his 
companions. As to doubting their divine origin, 
he would rather have disbelieved in the sun's 
light. Since his birth he had heard his father, 
his mother, his masters, and his slaves affirm that 
there was no God but Allah, and that Mahomet 
was his prophet. These two ideas, if I may so 
express myself, formed part and parcel of his 
being, of his very flesh. He no more thought of 
throwing them off, than of getting rid of his body. 
Complicated devotions completed this work of 
routine; in the palaces of Sejjid Said the five daily 
prayers of the truly faithful took up more than 
three hours. 

Nothing equals the narrowness of the system, 
unless it be its power. For more than ten cen- 
turies it has fashioned human brains, which have 
become like impregnable fortresses, whole nations 
which would give up life rather than one iota of 
their belief. It has succeeded in confining human 
thovight in limits so strict and so sacred that 



Memoirs of an Arab Princess 177 

Princess Salme affirms that, with us, there is 
nothing but impious infidehty, falsehood, and 
utter discontent. She is convinced that our ex- 
cess of education is the great misfortune of civ- 
ihsed nations, a greater calamity even than our 
terrible climate, than the health-destroying oc- 
cupations of Northerners, than the dispiriting dry- 
ness of European hearts. Why do we not realise 
it? "You prize education and science above all 
things. Then you wonder that piety, respect, 
veneration, righteousness, and content are sacri- 
ficed to pitiless warfare, frightful atheism, con- 
tempt of all institutions, human and divine! . . . 
How much better it would be to teach rather the 
word of God and his holy commandments, and to 
waste less time in arguing on force and matter." 
In her own case she was never more deceived, 
more robbed, more entirely at the mercy of vil- 
lains and charlatans, than since she had taken to 
studying and had become an "enlightened per- 
son," living in an "enlightened" society. At 
Zanzibar, she knew the golden age; Berlin could 
offer her nothing but the iron age. "O happy 
people of my country!" she exclaims, "you could 
never guess the real meaning of holy civilisation ! ' ' 
We are bold indeed when we talk pityingly of 
savages and of barbarous nations! We are really 
full of self-sufficiency when we start out to 
"enlighten by force" people who are our equals 
and who despise us from the bottom of their 
hearts. 



178 Princesses and Court Ladies 

A Mahometan is bound to despise us. The ideal 
held before him by his reUgion is not very high, 
and he attains to it easily. He cannot measure 
the height of ours, since he is incapable of rising 
above his own ideas. What he sees is our vain 
effort to reach our ideals and our repeated and 
shameful failures. He is bound to condemn us. 
This is the case with Sejjid's daughter. In her 
training as a civilised being, she noticed only the 
stones and the mud of the road, never the goal 
toward which it led. She could not understand 
that our stumblings were but the accidents in- 
herent to a struggle upward, that the rallying cry 
of our suffering masses, guilty though they may 
often be, is yet, through all sorrow and short- 
comings, Sursum cor da! She understood only that 
we do evil without wishing to do it, that we do 
not accomplish the good after which we yearn, 
and she affirms, without the reserve of her pages 
on marriage, the moral bankruptcy of Christian 
civilisation. A remnant of prudence keeps her 
from attributing it to our religion ; she accuses our 
education, but, in reality, to her they mean one 
and the same thing. It comes to this; that our 
churches, unlike her own, have not been able to 
combine the direction of the mind with the gov- 
ernment of the soul. She attacks our vain science 
as the mother of nearly all the woes of our corrupt 
and soured society ; with our miseries and our dis- 
cords, she compares the smiling picture of an 
Arab woman's life at Zanzibar. And this is the 



Memoirs of an Arab Princess 179 

very creature whom we regard as one of the most 
degraded and ill-treated of human beings. 



Ill 



We have seen the background of the Arab 
woman's happy life. It is brilliant and gay, if a 
little discordant. The high-ceilinged rooms of 
Bet-il-Mtoui and Bet-il-Sahel were uniformly 
whitewashed and curtainless. They had none of 
the exquisite soft tones and hushed intimacy of 
Haoua's room, Haoua, the beautiful Moorish 
woman, whose arms were firm and cold as marble, 
whom Eugene Fromentin knew and whose tragic 
death he described in Une annee dans le Sahel. 
A sun more intense shone on cruder colours, on 
a richer and more barbarous scene. The walls 
were divided into panels by niches which ran 
up to, the ceiling. Shelves of painted wood were 
placed in the niches and were laden with plates 
and gaily decorated porcelain, vases, glasses, and 
decanters of cut and engraved crystal, a favour- 
ite luxury with the inhabitants of Zanzibar, 
bought at any price. Between these dressers 
were placed low divans, above which were hung 
mirrors of European make, surmounted and sur- 
rounded by clocks of every conceivable form and 
style; this is another favourite luxury; some rich 
Arab houses remind one of a clockmaker's shop. 

The hostess's place is marked by a medde, a 



i8o Princesses and Court Ladies 

sort of mattress covered with cushions; the head 
of this lounge is against the wall. In the comer 
is a large Indian bed, curiously inlaid, so high that 
one reaches it after the fashion of an Amazon 
springing to the saddle, one foot placed on the 
hand of a slave. Here and there small coffers of 
rosewood, studded with hundreds of little brass 
nails, contain the wardrobe, the jewels, and per- 
fumes. Doors and windows are left open for the 
sake of air; violent odours, made up of all known 
perfumes, a great clatter of footsteps, voices, 
laughter, and quarrelling, arise from the courts 
and stairways. Showy and tumultuous, strange 
and picturesque, joyous and disquieting — such 
are those homes which certainly we should not 
envy, but which doubtless are not easily for- 
gotten. 

The women's garments are of barbaric splen- 
dour. They wear a robe both scanty and flow- 
ing, that does not drape the figure, and leaves the 
lines uncertain. It takes from a woman all that 
could reveal her sex; a stronger objection could 
scarcely be made. 

There are narrow trousers, made of bright 
coloured silk, which, by dint of flounces and em- 
broidery, reach the ankles; then a high-necked 
chemise, with narrow half -long sleeves, falls above 
the trousers and is of a violently different hue — 
emerald green on red, blue pn yellow, pink on 
orange, gold on purple, silver on violet. This 
chemise is made of brilliant and costly materials, 



Memoirs of an Arab Princess i8i 

brocades of gold and silver, heavy satins figured 
with flowers and arabesques of many tints, heavy 
Lyons velvets, soft China silks. During the ex- 
cessive summer heat, painted linens, many- 
coloured cottons, India muslins, are preferred to 
silks. But of whatever fabric the garment is 
made, it is covered with embroideries, with orna- 
ments of every description, trimmed with lace, 
tassels, bits of gold or silver, tufts of flossy silk, 
metal buttons, jewels, glass ornaments, in a word 
with numberless sparkling things that tremble, 
tinkle, dance, and shimmer at every movement. 
Several strings of necklaces fall on the bosom. 
The arms are heavy with bracelets that reach up 
to the elbow. Immense rings are on every finger. 
The head is covered with startling kerchiefs, 
much ornamented with knots of ribbon that hide 
the forehead to the eyebrows; heavy fringes, sur- 
rounding the face, complete the headgear; long 
ribbons on which are sewn sequins and pieces of 
gold studded with jewels, hang down the back. 

Princess Salme has placed her photograph as 
frontispiece to her Memoirs. For this occasion 
she chose a comparatively simple toilette, in spite 
of which, her little brown face seems crushed with 
finery. One sees, however, two piercing black 
eyes, a large mouth with a melancholy pout, and 
two pretty little bare feet, plump and well shaped. 
All the rest is half hidden under a mass of orna- 
ments. 

It was no easy matter to obtain all these sump- 



1 82 Princesses and Court Ladies 

tuous costumes. In those days there were but 
few shops at Zanzibar, and no native industries. 
The slaves made and ornamented the garments. 
Their mistress did not, on occasion, disdain to 
embroider or to make lace. Hindoo workmen, 
established in the island, fashioned some of the 
jewels. The remaining trinkets and the dress 
materials were brought often from afar. To Sejjid 
Said himself fell the care of providing his harems 
with their innumerable wants; his own families 
first of all, with the children and slaves; those 
of his sons, grandsons, of his great-grandsons; of 
his sons-in-law, their sons and grandsons, with 
their children and slaves. He also sent presents 
to his numerous married descendants and to 
shoals of poor relations in Arabia. Think of hav- 
ing to please a hundred or so women, and what 
women! women with but one occupation in the 
world, — their clothes. The pomatum question 
took the proportions of a state affair, for the dis- 
content of a harem is not to be despised. Plots are 
hatched behind barred windows, elsewhere than 
in tragedies, as we shall see in the course of this 
narrative. 

The old sultan would have been kept busy 
enough in distributing the necessaries of life to 
all his women, but the sarari and their daughters 
required more of him. He was expected to pro- 
cure for them the newest stuffs, the fashionable 
colour, and many curious objects which perhaps 
never existed except in the Abyssinian imagina- 



Memoirs of an Arab Princess 183 

tion. This extraordinary man accomplished this 
miracle. Every year a fleet left Zanzibar loaded 
with African products. As soon as the vessels 
had sailed out to sea each took a different direc- 
tion. Some went to Marseilles or England, others 
to the Persian Gulf, the ports of India and of 
China. Each captain carried with him a list of 
commissions, very minutely described, which he 
was to execute, taking the money of his products 
to pay for what he bought. Woe to him if he 
did not find what was not findable! 

The return of the fleet was the great event of 
the year. It was a time of greed, of merciless 
rivalries, of bitter jealousies. As soon as the 
vessels were emptied, the distribution began, made 
by the eunuchs under the direction of the sultan's 
elder daughters. The princess of the fairy tale, 
condemned to unravel a room full of tangled skeins 
of thread, had not before her a more terrible task. 
It will be easy to judge of this by giving a single 
item. Every Arab woman of quality uses five 
hundred dollars' worth of perfumery in a year. 
It would be wearisome to calculate what this sum, 
multiplied by the hihi, the sarari, and the kihibi 
of the imperial family, represented in the way of 
little pots, bottles, scent bags, essences, powders, 
oils and pomatums, perfumed with amber, musk, 
benjoin, basilic, jessamine, geranium, rose, ver- 
bena, mignonette, vanilla, lavender. And this 
provision had to be distributed without favouring 
or cheating any one. Then came the stuffs, to 



184 Princesses and Court Ladies 

be given by the piece; laces, and all that a woman 
can manage to sew on her garments to embellish 
them; jewels and all sorts of ornaments that give 
to an Arab woman the aspect of a Neapolitan 
Madonna on feast days; the children's playthings, 
the gewgaws, the trifles so dear in Eastern eyes, 
useful objects which more mature persons had 
requested, pocket money for presents, charities, 
and the telling of fortunes, for the sorceress, the 
seer, and the magician who puts illness to flight 
or exorcises the possessed. 

At last all is ready. That portion of the goods 
destined for later occasions has been carried to 
the chambers of the treasury. The first day of 
the distribution — it lasted three or four days — 
is announced. Impatience, joy, anguish are at 
their height in the harems, and the dawn shines 
on many a stormy face. At Bet-il-Sahel at sun- 
rise all is bustle and confusion. The doors are 
besieged by the women who are quartered outside 
the palace. Arab etiquette forbids them to show 
themselves in full day, and it was still dark when 
they started. The rising sun showers rose and 
gold tints on the brilliant groups as they pass 
through the big door, not to recross the threshold 
until nightfall. They are received by the crossest 
of all the sultan's slaves. Said the Nubian. Sejjid 
Said greatly favoured this gray-bearded servant, 
who was to him devoted and submissive. The 
children hated him and their mothers shrank from 
him, for he received them but ill. These early 



Memoirs of an Arab Princess 185 

visits exasperated him. He could be heard grum- 
bling in his beard, as he took up his big keys, ' ' that 
for the last hour he had been on his poor old legs, 
opening the door for the ladies!" The children 
hid his keys, out of spite; he would have to look 
for them in the hundred rooms where he might 
have left them, and this did not improve his 
temper. 

At last the door is opened, and the crowd 
gathered in the great court of the palace. In 
comparison, that of Bet-il-Mtoui was a temple of 
peace. Princess Salme once saw in Germany a 
comic opera which reminded her "faintly" of 
Bet-il-Sahel on the day of distribution. This 
comparison is a glorious one for the German comic 
stage, for it is not easy to reproduce even "faintly" 
so tremendous a confusion of sounds. A corner 
of the court served as slaughter house. Butchers 
killed according to the Mahometan rites, accom- 
panying each thrust with the formula: "In the 
name of God, the all-merciful." On the eve of 
feast days, the blood of the slaughtered animals 
covered the ground to the inexpressible horror of 
the Hindoos whose business called them to the 
place. A little further was the children's comer, 
where their nurses, negresses for the most part, 
told them such frightful stories that they all had 
the nightmare. Further still was the kitchen, in 
the open air at the foot of a pillar; this was the 
place of all others for the distributing of boxes 
on the ear; here there were many quarrels and 



1 86 Princesses and Court Ladies 

fights. From this kitchen came repasts in com- 
parison of which the wedding feast of Gamache 
was but a doll dinner. Oxen, cows, sheep, goats, 
gazelles, were roasted whole. "Fish were often 
brought so large that two powerful negroes were 
required to carry them. The smaller fish came 
by baskets full, and fowls by the dozens. Flour, 
rice, sugar, were brought by the wholesale, and the 
butter, which came melted from the North, was 
in large earthen jars." Long processions of car- 
riers hurled down baskets of fruit, half of which 
was in consequence spoiled. One came across 
barbers, plying their trade in the open air, water- 
carriers, and busy eunuchs. The newcomers el- 
bowed their way into the court and up the stair- 
cases as best they could, but it often took them 
half an hour to reach the first landing, so great 
was the crush. 

At last the solemn hour when the year's gifts 
are to be divided has arrived. Quantities of 
eunuchs carry the parcels, and the last moments 
of expectation seem never-ending. But the time 
comes, as do all moments in this world, whether 
they are desired or feared. It has come. It has 
gone. Cries and laughter are heard; the parcels 
are opened and the fabrics shaken out; calls are 
heard, each woman rushes to the others, for now 
come the bartering and exchanging, each one 
seeking to get as many fringes, laces, and orna- 
ments as possible for her costumes, and sacrificing 
whole pieces of goods for that purpose. The floor 



Memoirs of an Arab Princess 187 

is littered with silks and satins, or with gewgaws; 
the squatting women, with their great scissors, 
work with such a will that they often cut into 
their own clothes. Anger and despair are rife and 
find vent in no measured terms. The harem does 
not recover its usual aspect for two whole weeks. 

The sultan disposes of the remaining treasures 
at the end of the great fasting time. All know 
that the Ramadan lasts thirty days, during which 
it is forbidden to swallow anything until the sun 
has sunk behind the horizon. "It is permitted," 
says the Koran, ' ' to eat and drink until the moment 
when one can distinguish a white thread from a 
black one. From that moment strict fasting must 
be observed until night." In the city of Zanzibar 
the cannon announced the second when a white 
thread could be distinguished from a black one: 
"He who is putting a morsel to his mouth," add 
the Memoirs, "lets it drop instantly. He who 
has raised a glass to quench his thirst, puts it 
down without having tasted a drop of water." 
Until the evening, a faithful Mahometan "must 
not on purpose swallow his saliva." Under that 
flaming sky the privation of water during fourteen 
or fifteen hours is no small penance. 

With the Mussulmans as with the Christians, 
fasting is not the same for all. The rich make 
arrangements with Heaven, and for the mighty 
of Zanzibar the Ramadan was a carnival. The 
slaves and other poor devils who worked hard 
really fasted. It would have been a public scandal 



1 88 Princesses and Court Ladies 

to see an unfortunate negro, sweltering and work- 
ing under the whip, swallow a few drops of water. 
The rich and high born remembered that the 
prophet had said with regard to fasting: "God 
requires your welfare, not your fasting." They 
slept during the day, and feasted all night. The 
harems of Sejjid Said were by no means austere; 
the nights of Ramadan were a perpetual carouse. 

Fasting was broken by a collation of fruits, 
immediately followed by a copious dinner, which 
was but the prelude to -feasting which lasted till 
daybreak. Women sang their slow-dragging 
songs, improvisers declaimed before an over -ex- 
cited audience that never ceased eating and 
drinking. At midnight, once more the cannon 
woke the army of cooks and scullery boys, fires 
were once more kindled in the court, and the 
odour of cooking filled the galleries, bright with 
many-hued lanterns. Between three and four 
o'clock was served the supper, or suhur. The 
nurses woke the little ones asleep here and there 
on the matting or the divans, and feasting began 
again until the cannon stopped the morsel on its 
way to the mouth. The harem, gorged and 
happy, slept during the heat of the day, the gar- 
ments, according to the Eastern custom, not even 
thrown off. 

In spite of this easy sort of penance, the end 
of the Ramadan is eagerly watched for by the 
rich as well as by the poor, for it brings with it 
the giving of presents, a distribution of alms, and 



Memoirs of an Arab Princess 189 

tiniversal rejoicings. The Ramadan ends when 
the new moon is just discernible, a transient 
vision, as the deUcate crescent disappears with 
the sun. As soon as twiUght falls, all eyes in 
Zanzibar watch for the young moon on the 
dimmed horizon. Slaves are sent up to the top 
of cocoanut trees. The lucky possessors of marine 
glasses are besieged by would-be borrowers. 
When the Ramadan, which each year is advanced 
eleven days, falls in the rainy season and the sky 
is covered with clouds, the f asters probably take 
the moon on faith. However that may be, a 
last boom of the cannon salutes the liberating 
satellite, and an immense cry of joy arises from 
the city toward the sky, filling the air with happy 
shouts. Horsemen gallop about the country, 
announcing the good news. Passers-by stop to 
congratulate each other, friends exchange wishes 
of happiness, foes are reconciled. 

The night that followed the end of the fast was 
always an agitated -one in the harems. Every 
woman had prepared three new outfits for the 
three days of festivities, and could not wait for 
daylight to try the effect of this finery. At four 
o'clock in the morning they were ready. The 
soles of their feet and the palms of their hands 
were freshly tinted with henna, of a bright orange 
hue. They were so perfumed that it was enough 
to make one faint. "An Occidental woman," 
says Princess Salm6, "would have as much diffi- 
culty in realising the amount of perfiunes used 



ipo Princesses and Court Ladies 

during those three days, as an Eastern one of 
understanding the amount of beer consumed in 
Berhn during the feast of Pentecost." Sarari 
and kihihi left their rooms, running one to the 
other, to enjoy the surprise and admiration, or 
the spite, of friend and foe. One can imagine the 
looks exchanged. Before seven o'clock the whole 
palace was like "a huge ball room," where it was 
difficult to force one's way. 

Sejjid Said went to perform his devotions at the 
mosque. On his return he allowed his hand to 
be kissed, and then directed his steps toward the 
treasure chambers, followed by his favourite 
daughter, the beautiful Chole, and the giant 
Djohar, chief of the eunuchs. 

Chole, surnamed morning star, was the marvel 
of Zanzibar, the pearl of the imperial palaces, the 
apple of her father's eye. Her beauty was un- 
equalled, her temper sweet and gay. The sultan 
adored her and confided to her the key of the 
treasure room. So much favour, such peerless 
grace, could not remain unpunished; innocent 
Chole was the object of ferocious hatred. An 
imprudence of her father's proved fatal to her. 
Sejjid Said, wishing to give her a proof of his 
tenderness, placed a diamond tiara on her head. 
After his death, Chole perished by poison. But 
this is anticipating. 

All three entered the treasure rooms, followed 
by many an envious glance. The venerable po- 
tentate had taken the trouble to ask each surie 



Memoirs of an Arab Princess 191 

and princess what she particularly desired. Chole, 
incapable of petty vengeance, refreshed his mem- 
ory, and Djohar wrote down the names on each 
parcel. Surely a Mahometan is blessed with more 
patience than a Christian, as he also is endowed 
with greater discretion and gravity. The slaves 
intrusted with the care of carrying the presents, 
often brought them back with audacious mes- 
sages of refusal. Sejjid Said took the rejected 
parcels and exchanged them for others. "And 
so each one usually obtained what she desired." 
Yet, on that day, the sultan had other things to 
do besides contenting the inmates of his harems. 
He also made presents to the masculine members 
of his family; "to all the great Asiatic and African 
chiefs who happened to be at Zanzibar; to the 
public functionaries; to the soldiers and their 
officers; to the sailors and their captains; to the 
stewards of his forty-five plantations; and finally 
to all his slaves, the number of which exceeded 
six or eight thousand. Naturally, the presents 
were in proportion to the rank of those who re- 
ceived them; the slaves, for example, received 
common stuffs." Is not all this wonderful? Can 
one help admiring the thoughtfulness of this 
patriarch, the intelligence, the order, that pro- 
vided varied presents for fifteen thousand per- 
sons, from the sale of elephants' teeth, spices, 
copal gum, and the seeds of sesame? "This 
proves that our father was an excellent business 
man," adds his daughter with legitimate pride. 



192 Princesses and Court Ladies 

From year's end to year's end, his indulgence 
made life in the harem easy and free enough. 
After the family breakfast he went down to the 
great hall on the ground floor, and there gave 
audience. The windows of the palace immedi- 
ately showed innumerable women who looked at 
the men who entered, and watched for "signs 
visible only to themselves." Masks and shutters 
are useless when a woman wants to be seen. The 
following story proves it. 

The crowd of men before the palace noticed a 
young chief of Oman, who stood in an attitude 
of ecstasy such as painters attribute to martyrs. 
His hand held a spear, the iron of which pierced 
his foot, and his upturned face was full of beati- 
tude. The divinity he thus adored was of the 
earth; it was Chole, looking out of a window; her 
resplendent beauty had bereft him of his senses. 
The bystanders had to warn him that he was 
wounded. It was enough that he had seen and 
been seen. 

Two or three hours were thus spent in making 
remarks about the outsiders, and that was very 
interesting. Princess Salme became acquainted 
with many German doctors. Their conversation 
was a bleak desert compared to the "extraordi- 
narily amusing and savoury conversations ' ' at the 
Bet-il-Sahel windows. Western people imagine 
that an Eastern beauty loses her time in idleness. 
Their error comes from not discerning between the 
noble leisure of an aristocrat and the guilty lazi- 



Memoirs of an Arab Princess 193 

ness of the common herd. There are on earth 
more interesting and refined occupations than the 
sordid cares of a German housekeeper. Princess 
Salme grows irritated at constantly hearing Berlin 
and Hamburg dames ask "how in her country 
people can exist doing nothing?" This question 
proves that Northern Germany, in spite of its 
pretensions and hobbies, has lost all real notion of 
aristocratic life. An Arab lady has slaves who 
work for her, and who must be beaten when they 
grow lazy. As to herself, she looks out of the 
window exchanging sharp reflections with her 
friends, and she no more calls that "doing 
nothing" than did Queen Eleanor of Guyenne, or 
beautiful Laura of Noves, when they presided over 
their courts of love. The tedious activity of a 
citizen of Bremen is an estimable thing in its way, 
but such work does not suit all blood or all souls. 
God created the European eager for gain, and the 
negro despicable, so that the Arab might sleep 
in the shade when he is not fighting. 

Prudent mothers feared the harem windows, 
and advised their daughters not to go near them. 
They knew that few husbands regarded even the 
appearance of freedom, with the serene indul- 
gence which old age had given to the wise Sejjid 
Said. They themselves avoided the windows, 
and spent the day visiting each other or em- 
broidering. The more learned read novels. It 
would be interesting to know what were these 
novels, belonging to what period and to what 



194 Princesses and Court Ladies 

country, and how much of them the Zanzibar 
Highnesses understood. Of all this the Memoirs 
tell us nothing. 

Toward one o'clock each one retired to a shady 
nook for rest. The harem ladies stretched them- 
selves in great comfort, and spent the time de- 
lightfully, nibbling at fruit and cakes, chatting 
and sleeping. Then came elaborate dressing, and 
the kihihi went to dine with the sultan. They 
listened to the barrel organ ; but the real pleasures 
began with the night. Many visitors came ; there 
was more chattering, card parties were organized, 
sweets offered, negro music listened to. These 
entertainments were a good deal like ours, except 
that no one spoke of the weather. Princess Salme 
declares that this subject of conversation was new 
to her when she came to Europe, and she makes 
great fun of us for the importance we attach to 
it. Those who did not receive visits made them. 
The safari and the Highnesses went out calling, 
accompanied by a resplendent escort. 

First came a slave bearing lanterns. One rec- 
ognised the qualities of the ladies by the number 
and dimensions of the lanterns. The largest 
measured two yards in circumference, and showed 
five cupolas "after the style of a Russian church." 
A noble lady had six of these carried on long 
poles by six men, chosen for their great strength. 
After these, two by two, walked twenty slaves 
richly clothed, and bearing weapons inlaid with 
gold and silver. They pushed aside the pedes- 



Memoirs of an Arab Princess 195 

trians, whom etiquette forced to take refuge in 
the shops, in side streets, or in the houses. The 
Zanzibar rabble, rude as such crowds are every- 
where, often rebelled and were not easily dis- 
persed, except by the much dreaded slaves of the 
imperial palace. After them walked their mis- 
tress, swathed up to the eyes in a sort of long 
black silk cloak, bordered with gold or with some 
coloured trimming ; this drapery was called a Scheie; 
the feet were incased in red leather boots much 
embroidered and high-heeled. An Arab woman 
of inferior rank accompanied her, and the proces- 
sion was closed by many female slaves in their 
most showy accoutrements. The brilliant troop 
walked with dignity along the narrow and crooked 
streets until it met a friend's escort; the meeting 
is always a noisy one; the chatter and exclama- 
tions are heai;d above the clashing of arms ; many 
curious faces show themselves from the doors and 
windows of the neighbouring houses and from the 
top of the terraces. The walk to the friend's 
abode is then resumed with much noise and con- 
fusion, the whole population becoming interested 
in it. ''We could have been tracked," say the 
Memoirs, "long after our passage by the strong 
and heavy perfumes which filled the streets." At 
midnight each one regained her home with the con- 
viction that the day had been well and usefully 
employed. "It is thus made clear," says Princess 
Salm^, "that it is a calumny to accuse Eastern 
women of doing nothing." Very clear, certainly! 



196 Princesses and Court Ladies 

From time to time the peace-loving Sejjid Said 
was teased by a portion of his harem for a hohday 
on one of his plantations. At last the good man 
yielded. Women and girls started at daybreak, 
mounted on big white donkeys and surrounded by 
crowds of runners, of parasol holders, of eunuchs 
on horseback, of soldiers, living panoplies, each 
carrying a lance, a gun, a shield, a sabre, and a 
dagger. As soon as the town was left behind, 
the runners whipped up the donkeys, and the 
whole band started off at a mad pace, unmindful 
of the shrill calls of the eunuchs. It was a tor- 
nado, a cyclone, a general scattering, so that the 
plantation was reached in little groups, a thing 
quite against the laws of etiquette. No one 
knows the meaning of earthly happiness who has 
not tasted the enchanting life of a harem in the 
country. The women gave themselves indiges- 
tions from morning to night. There were num- 
berless visits. Under the trees there was perfect 
liberty. Games, laughter, fireworks, and concerts 
made the time fly. A part of the night was passed 
out of doors in the sweet, scent-laden air. Groups 
of women, whose eyes and whose jewels gleamed 
in the darkness, were formed under the giant 
trees or in some clearing, where slaves and Hin- 
doos in white garments danced by moonlight. 
These divine nights are characterised by a very 
European and literary word, which, written by a 
kibibi, produces a singular effect: "Such evenings," 
she says, "are most romantic." 



Memoirs of an Arab Princess 197 

As she tells of these marvels, her poor little 
heart bleeds. Exiled by her own imprudence in 
a hard, false, rapacious, and hypocritical world, 
she can find strength to endure the present, only 
by remembering the past. Against the sorrows 
that weigh upon her, against the thorns with 
which civilisation has "abundantly strewn the 
path of her life," the poor creature has but one 
means of defending herself: "the sacred memory 
of her country and of her family." She exclaims 
with eloquence: "Each day I bask in that sun- 
shine." Now it is time to relate how her great 
misfortune fell upon her. 



IV 



Sejjid Said, at long intervals, journeyed to 
Mascat, so as to put some order in his kingdom 
of Oman. Salme, nearly grown up, saw him 
leave for one of these expeditions. He took with 
him some of his daughters and two favourite 
sarari. The government of his harems, as well as 
that of Zanzibar, devolved, according to custom, 
upon one of his sons, called Chalid, an excellent 
Mahometan, whose first care was to reestablish 
discipline in the feminine herd intrusted to his 
care. Farewell to indulgence and to weakness! 
Chalid knew the law, as had been seen during a 
conflagration at Bet-il-Sahel. 

This happened during one of his regencies. 



198 Princesses and Court Ladies 

The fire began in the daytime, at an hour when 
an Arab lady should not be seen outside of her 
home. The immense population of Bet-il-Sahel, 
wild with terror, flying from the flames, struggling 
madly, choked up the doors. The crowd found 
all the issues closed and guarded by soldiers. 
Chalid had but one idea when the fire broke out: 
he respected law too thoroughl}^ to permit his 
sisters and stepmothers to be seen outside in 
broad daylight. The fire was extinguished, luckily 
for them. If it had not, it would have gone hard 
with the poor creatures. Perish the harem rather 
than a principle! Chalid was ill-rewarded for his 
fidelity to the precepts of the Koran. His two 
daughters became the leaders of the movement 
for female emancipation in Zanzibar. 

The week preceding the departure of the old 
sultan was a strenuous one for his womenfolk. 
These ladies took advantage of the opportunity 
to send news to their families of Oman, and in a 
harem nothing equals the difficulty of letter-writ- 
ing, even for those who know how to write. Those 
who need an amanuensis and who are not allowed 
to see him, employ a negro as interpreter. It was 
necessary to teach the words to the negro, who 
repeated them to the scribe. This scribe was 
already struggling with about a dozen other 
letters. The negro fuddled ; the scribe likewise 
fuddled, and the result was not at all what was 
first intended. The negro's mistress, in despair, 
would send him for another writer, then again 



Memoirs of an Arab Princess 199 

for a third and a fourth ; but the result was always 
the same. When the fleet was ready to sail, the 
only thing left to do was to choose among the 
different versions that which was least foreign to 
the author's purpose. 

A heavy weariness followed these efforts. Three 
years passed without bringing back the fleet. It 
returned at last, carrying a corpse. Sejjid Said 
had died during the homeward voyage. His sons 
and daughters divided the plantations and the 
treasures among themselves. The sarari without 
children received enough to live upon, according 
to the testament, and each went his or her way, 
leaving the place free for the harem of the new 
sultan, Mad j id. 

What now happened does not argue in favour 
of polygamy, despite all Princess Salme can say 
for it. As soon as the head of the family had 
disappeared, his children turned against each other 
with the same fury that had characterised their 
mothers, the sarari. Brothers became odious to 
their brothers, sisters to their sisters. A mania 
of suspicion and spying took possession of them, 
even of gentle Salm6. This impious hatred en- 
gendered very ugly acts and ill usages without 
end. The only one who escaped the contagion 
was Madjid, the successor of Sejjid Said. All that 
he gained by his moderation was a plot, of which 
one of his sisters was the leading spirit. Princess 
Salm^ allowed herself to become entangled in it, 
and these two cloistered young girls prepared a 



200 Princesses and Court Ladies 

revolution which was to dethrone the sultan in 
favour of one of his brothers. The conspiracy 
was discovered, and the pretender besieged in his 
palace, taken and banished. The sultan pardoned 
the two women, but he could not give them back 
the slaves armed against his soldiers, and killed 
in the fight. They were thereby greatly impov- 
erished; it was a loss of capital, a financial catas- 
trophe. On the other hand, public opinion was 
against them, and the two sisters were sent to 
Coventry. There were no more visits, no more 
joyous entertainments, no more invitations; the 
very bric-k-brac merchants no longer crossed their 
threshold. Life became intolerable. Disgusted 
and repentant, Princess Salm6 went into the coun- 
try. On her return, Herr Ruete made his appear- 
ance. 

He was young, and he came at the right 
moment. His house was built against that of 
the princess. From terrace to terrace, they saw 
each other, became interested in each other, loved 
each other. We have said that Herr Ruete 
represented a Hamburg firm. It was scarcely 
to be expected that the sultan would look upon 
this brother-in-law with a favourable eye. The 
lovers resorted to the classical elopement. A first 
attempt failed. England most opportunely fa- 
voured a second. British politics are full of mys- 
teries. It suited Great Britain that a German 
merchant should scandalise the nation by marry- 
ing a Mahometan princess, daughter of the vener- 



Memoirs of an Arab Princess 201 

ated Sejjid Said. English agents were mixed up 
in the affair: a captain of the royal navy, trans- 
formed for the occasion into a Figaro, carried off 
this brown Rosina by night. She was taken on 
board, and the vessel at once sailed for Aden, 
where Princess Salme, duly baptised and married, 
became, for the rest of her days, Frau Ruete. 

She had no fault to find with her husband, — 
far from it; but Herr Ruete was crushed by a 
tramway after three years of matrimony. She 
remained alone, terrified and dazed by a life too 
complicated and too difficult for her. Habit 
keeps us from feeling the weight of civilisation. 
It cheats us as to the veritable effects of intricate 
organizations, of ingenious inventions accumu- 
lated about us during centuries. We fancy that 
progress lightens our life and breaks, one by one, 
the chains with which our ignorance and our sim- 
plicity had weighted us at the beginning. The 
truth is very different. Each new discovery adds 
to our needs; each new idea augments the worry 
and the fatigue of our mind; each step forward 
contributes to the weight of our burden. We 
have no right to complain of this; the labour is in 
proportion with the good obtained. But we can 
easily imagine the terror of a primitive creature 
for whom our aspirations are a sealed letter, feel- 
ing herself suddenly caught among the wheels and 
clogs of that powerful machine — a civilised 
nation. Ex-princess Salme had the impression 
that she was being crushed. In her suffering she 



101 Princesses and Court Ladies 

asked herself whether she had concluded a good 
bargain in exchanging her semi -barbarous nation 
for glorious Germany. She balanced the two 
kinds of life, compared the social arrangements, 
the material comforts, the two moralities, then 
compared herself with the ignorant kihihi of other 
days. The result of this meditation we have 
given little by little, and it amounted practically 
to this: In Zanzibar, there is happiness because 
neither the institutions nor the sentiments de- 
ceive; in Europe, there are shams everywhere, 
and one is surrounded by a crowd of despairing 
beings, who complain that they have been tricked 
by false promises of justice, virtue, and happiness. 
We must take into account, — and this is to her 
honour, — that she might have attempted to 
deceive us. She might have painted her youthful 
companions with conventional colours and have 
proposed them to our admiration. We should not 
have believed her, but our judgment might have 
hesitated. This she did not do. Frau Ruete 
veiled the unpleasant aspects of her subject like 
a delicate and refined lady ; her Memoirs do not 
once allude to vice, and Heaven knows that vice 
exists in harems. She has been frank enough as 
to the rest, to make us consider this boasted Eden 
as a veritable hell, and she knows perfectly what 
our opinion is; only she endeavours to persuade 
us that we are wrong, and that in Zanzibar lies 
perfect happiness. This little Arab woman is very 
brave. For instance, she knows that, in Europe, 



Memoirs of an Arab Princess 203 

slavery is condemned. She insinuates that phil- 
anthropy has less to do with all this virtuous 
indignation than politics, which is very possible. 
However that may be, she takes the defence of 
slavery, with reasonings that are in no way hypo- 
critical and are all the stronger for that; hers are 
excellent reasons, practical and frankly egotis- 
tical. 

Since the Arab does not work, it is necessary 
that some one should work for him, and who 
could do this, if not the negro ? He is very happy 
with his Mahometan master, very superior to the 
Christian slave-holder. He is beaten, that is true, 
but through his own fault, his grievous fault. 
Why is he lazy? A negro has no right to the 
aristocratic privilege of doing nothing, and the 
only reasoning which he is capable of understand- 
ing is the reasoning of the lash. It is necessary 
to whip him — and after all, what is that to make 
such a fuss about ? Europeans, living in the East, 
imagine great tragedies because they hear much 
howling. The truth is that ''negroes are cowards 
who do not know how to endure physical pain 
quietly." They make "a horrible noise" for a 
few blows; foreign consuls interfere, and the true 
victims are the Arabs, who are being ruined, and 
who "regret with all their might the happy days 
when they were free from subversive European 
ideas." In reality, the Zanzibar slaves are very 
happy. The foreign consuls take good care not 
to speak of the look of happy content on the 



204- Princesses and Court Ladies 

slaves' faces when they are not punished, of the 
kindness with which they are encouraged to in- 
crease and multiply, of the touching care taken 
of the infants, those "perquisites of the master." 
The consuls and the European merchants also 
only speak of the evil. Yet they themselves buy 
yellow and black women by whom they have 
little ones, and sell off the whole lot when they 
leave the country. A Mahometan would never 
be guilty of such a thing. 

The sufferings of slaves driven in herds from 
their land are great, and many die on the road. 
Frau Ruete understands the pity with which they 
inspire us ; she shares it, says so, and then suddenly 
amazes the reader by a perfectly new point of 
view. She asks the good ladies who belong to 
anti-slavery societies and knit woollen stockings 
for people who go about quite naked, to reserve 
a little of their compassion — for whom do you 
think? I give you a hundred guesses, a thou- 
sand . . . for the drivers of those herds! These 
are honest traders who, perhaps, have put all 
their fortune in this venture, who share the fatigues 
of the slaves, are thirsty and weary with them, 
who are ruined when the negroes die on the way 
— and of whom no one thinks, except to curse 
them. A Christian really has no sense of justice, 
and he has, furthermore, lost all sense of shame 
about work; it is therefore useless to expect of 
him an equitable judgment on the slave question. 
Let slavery, at least, be suppressed little by little, 



Memoirs of an Arab Princess 205 

leaving the Arab leisure to seek for some new 
expedient. As to the grotesque fancy that the 
kings of creation could ever themselves be sub- 
jected to the law of work, let that be abandoned. 
For her part, Princess Salme would never advise 
her equals to bow their heads to so degrading a 
law. She has too grievously suffered from it her- 
self: German business men have ruined her, and 
she has been condemned to a mean and mortify- 
ing sort of life. 

At one time she thought of returning to her 
own country, but that she did not dare to do. 
In the spring of 1875, she had a gleam of hope. 
She saw by the papers that her brother Sejjid 
Bargasch, Sultan of Zanzibar, was preparing to 
visit England. It was for him that she had con- 
spired, sending her best slaves to their death and 
incurring disgrace for herself ; were she to implore 
his help, he could not turn from her. Then, the 
English government that, so kindly, had lent a 
war-ship to further her little romance, could not 
now turn against her. She hastened to London, 
and saw that she had not been forgotten. But 
British diplomacy now found it expedient to 
efface the remembrance of an incident, painful 
to the self-love of a friendly power. There was 
not the slightest necessity to treat Frau Ruete 
with consideration. She was given somewhat 
brutally to understand that the English govern- 
ment by no means wished "to annoy a royal 
guest with unpleasant private affairs." He, how- 



2o6 Princesses and Court Ladies 

ever, promised many fine things for her children, 
if she would only quietly return to Germany with- 
out attempting to see her brother. She believed 
in his good -will, went back, received nothing, and 
lost ''all faith and confidence in men." Deprived 
henceforth of hope, reduced to "a situation that 
the most cruel person would not wish to inflict 
on his enemy," the poor kibibi, born to look 
vaguely out of the window and to eat sweetmeats, 
took up her chain with dumb despair. ''I was," 
says she, "more like an automaton than a living 
being." It was at this time that, for her chil- 
dren, she wrote her Memoirs. These poor little 
creatures were probably destined likewise to suffer, 
and it was well that they should not imagine that 
the whole world was ugly and dull, for fear they 
might become like those impious beings, known 
in civilised lands as pessimists, who rebel against 
God and blaspheme his work. Their mother's 
duty was to speak to them of the warm and gen- 
erous country of her happy youth, of its good and 
just inhabitants, and of the happiness which they 
enjoyed. 

When her task was completed she once more 
took up her pen to relate a last event which had 
filled her with joy, but the result of which was 
most lamentable. In 1885 she heard that the 
German government, acquainted with her ardent 
desire to revisit her native land, had ordered a 
ship to take her on board, and give a last joy to 
a sentimental widow. Naturally, politics were at 



Memoirs of an Arab Princess 207 

the bottom of this kindness. Germany was turn- 
ing its attention to Eastern Africa, and was glad 
to show the natives that it possessed a sultan's 
daughter, while England had none to offer. The 
minister of foreign affairs sent Princess Salme to 
the Zanzibar squadron, making use of her as of 
an advertisement. The officers exhibited her to 
the natives, who received her with noisy enthu- 
siasm. The English consul, furious at such tac- 
tics, complained to Sejjid Bargasch. The sultan 
treated the popular enthusiasm with many lashes 
and succeeded only in augmenting it. Frau Ruete 
saw neither relatives nor friends; she received not 
a penny of the sixteen inheritances which she 
claimed; but she was treated to many hurrahs! 
and the Germans took her back, half crazed with 
acclamations' and sunshine, her heart overflowing 
with gratitude toward her Teutonic benefactors. 

By Christmas she was at home again, and has- 
tened to add a glowing postscript to her Me- 
moirs. Yet, behold ! in the midst of her hymn of 
joy, a bitter feeling reveals itself. In beholding 
her country with her Christianised eyes, she no 
longer saw it as perfect; things which, in olden 
times, she had not even noticed, now shocked her; 
others excited her indignation, because she was no 
longer accustomed to them. What is more natural 
than that an Eastern potentate should attribute 
to himself property which is to his taste? Sejjid 
Bargasch acted according to this right, and his 
sister considers him as a mere robber. What can 



2o8 Princesses and Court Ladies 

be more desirable than to maintain discipline in 
one's family? Sejjid Bargasch, with his own hand, 
administered fifty blows to a sister whom he sus- 
pected of loving without his permission, and Frau 
Ruete calls him a brutal tyrant. What more 
imperious duty than for a worthy disciple of the 
Prophet to enforce the laws of decency in his 
harem? Sejjid Bargasch, having discovered his 
favourite at the window, exchanging signs with a 
European, lashed her to such good purpose that 
she died of it. Frau Ruete cries out with horror: 
' ' Afterwards he caused prayers to be said on the 
grave of his victim." No doubt this conduct on 
the part of the sultan is worthy of praise ; having 
rendered justice, he sought to save the soul. 

Frau Ruete, having lost her sense of the Ma- 
hometan world, had not acquired that of ours. 
This is what she understands after her triumphant 
voyage of 1885: "I had left my native land," 
she writes, "Arab from head to foot and a good 
Mahometan. What am I now? A bad Chris- 
tian, and only half a German." 

All this proves and confirms what we already 
knew: there is incompatibility of nature between 
us and the Arab. Neither time, nor politics, nor 
missionaries will ever change this. Whether we 
accuse the race or the religion, it matters little. 
Antipathy exists, and will exist throughout future 
generations, for it cannot disappear. Princess 
Salme, during twenty years, puzzled over the fact 
that she did not love us; she is still seeking to 



Memoirs of an Arab Princess 209 

solve the problem, whereas every page of her 
Memoirs gives us that solution. We are irrec- 
oncilable because we attribute different meanings 
to such expressions as human dignity and moral 
sense; because our conceptions of the task and 
destiny of humanity clash too violently; because 
our watchwords are in direct opposition one to 
the other. The Arab's watchword is Inertia; ours 
is Forward. The two races have nothing in 
common. 



THE DUCHESS OF MAINE 

The Duchess of Maine died not a century and 
a half ago.' Our great-grandfathers may have 
known her, may have capped verses with her, 
and danced ballet steps on her private stage at 
Sceaux. Yet, as we study her life, it seems as 
though we were separated from it by hundreds 
of years. Her world differed in every particular 
from ours. The princes and princesses of her day 
were singularly unlike those of our time, not only 
in the opinion of the public, but in their own as 
well. They were very proud of being what they 
were; very well satisfied with themselves. The 
Duchess of Maine is apart even from her peers 
by the excess of her pride of birth and of her self- 
complacency. For this reason she deserves to be 
chosen as an example of a princess who enjoyed 
a semi-royal state during the eighteenth century. 
Moreover, we are fully informed as to all that 
concerns her. She was much in the thought of 
her contemporaries; there are no Memoirs and 
few letters of the day in which she is not men- 
tioned. 

I 

Anne Louise Benedicts de Bourbon, born 
in 1676, was the granddaughter of "Monsieur le 

' This essay was written in 1890. 
210 



The Duchess of Maine 211 

Prince, the hero/" as it was then the custom to call 
the Great Cond^. Her father, simply Monsieur le 
Prince, was a very thin little man with eyes of fire 
which lighted up his face. He had all the wit that 
a man could possess, much natural valour, and a 
great desire to distinguish himself, vast learning, 
exquisite politeness, and infinite charm of manner 
when he was in society and was forced to control 
himself. A grain of eccentricity rendered all these 
precious gifts useless. He was a man full of ca- 
price and passion. He changed his ideas from min- 
ute to minute, and all his household was bound to 
follow his lead. He willed a thing, then willed the 
reverse; a voyage was decided upon, then counter- 
manded; all were ordered to receive communion, 
and no one di(i ; it was supposed that supper would 
be served at Ecouen, and it was eaten in Paris; 
every day four dinners were prepared in four 
different towns, and no one knew, in the morning, 
which would be eaten. It happened once that 
Monsieur le Prince, fifteen consecutive days, 
started with his wife for Fontainebleau, and 
fifteen consecutive times changed his mind before 
he reached the end of the street. On the other 
hand, he would put the princess in a coach when 
she least expected it, and take her travelling 
without a word of explanation. 

His avarice has become a tradition, and yet 
no man could be more lavish when the fit was on 
him. He dined off half a chicken, the other half 
of which was served the next day, but he spent 



i\i Princesses and Court Ladies 

millions in fancies and gallantries to embellish 
Chantilly and to dazzle beautiful ladies. When 
he was in love — and that often happened — he 
was a theatrical hero and showered gold on the 
object of his passion. Nothing was too expensive, 
and he outdid Scapin in the fertility of his imagi- 
nation. He would disguise himself as a lackey 
or as a female dealer in cast-off garments. He 
would hire and fit up all the houses on one side 
of a street, so as to pierce the walls and thus 
reach, without being seen, the house which, at 
that moment, interested him. At home, where he 
was not amorously inclined, he was insupport- 
able, a fantastic and avaricious tyrant. Saint- 
Simon affirms that he used to beat his wife. At 
any rate, he was brutal to her in words and cruelly 
oppressed her. 

We have spoken at some length of Monsieur le 
Prince, because his daughter Anne Louise was a 
good deal like him, whereas she in no way re- 
sembled her mother. Monsieur le Prince had 
married a daughter of Edward of Bavaria, Prince 
Palatine of the Rhine, and of that Anne of Gou- 
zagne-Cleves who played a part in the Fronde. 
Madame la Princessewas a poor, defenceless crea- 
ture, small and ugly, somewhat hump-backed 
and misshapen, with the gentleness and patience 
of an angel, not clever, but most " pious and 
virtuous. Her husband made of her a sort of 
puppet ; he pulled a string and she came or went, 
got up or sat down, looked gay or sad, without 






DUCHESSE DU MAINE 
After the portrait by Staal 



The Duchess of Maine 213 

knowing why ; without daring to ask for any ex- 
planation. 

This small couple had ten children, most of 
whom died in childhood. Of the five that re- 
mained, one alone consented to grow a little; this 
was Marie Therese who became Princess of Conti. 
All the others remained so tiny, so very tiny, 
that they seemed a family of pygmies. The Great 
Conde said that if his family went on dwindling, 
there would soon be nothing left of it. In point 
of fact, a little more and the Cond^ palace might 
have been mistaken for the kingdom of Lilliput 
— a dismal Lilliput, governed by an ogre. The 
terrible Monsieur le Prince was the ogre. He 
always seemed in search of fresh meat, and his 
children's one desire was to escape from him. 
The daughters most ardently desired husbands, 
all the more that their father seemed in no hurry 
to provide them with that commodity. The eld- 
est, the one who had consented to grow a little, 
was already two and twenty when she married 
her cousin the Prince of Conti. The three younger 
girls fluttered with hope and fear when they 
learned that the Duke of Maine thought of them, 
and that their father desired his alliance. 

The bridegroom so eagerly expected was, how- 
ever, not a very glorious one for the grand- 
daughter of the Great Conde. He was the second 
of the nine children whom Madame de Montespan 
had presented to Louis XIV ; children hidden in 
the beginning, by degrees shown at Court, then 



214 Princesses and Court Ladies 

recognised, finally allowed in 1680 to bear the 
name of Bourbon. Their rapid fortune, which 
promised yet greater advancement, had scandal- 
ised France even at a time when all the king did 
was looked upon as admirable and sacred. Mon- 
sieur le Prince chose to shut his eyes to all except 
the solid advantages which unions with the "legit- 
imated ' ' children could not fail to offer. He had 
already married his son, Monsieur le Due, to a 
sister of the Duke of Maine. When he heard that 
the duke w^as seeking for a wife, he offered his 
daughters. 

It is well known that the Duke of Maine had a 
club-foot, and that his childhood had been sickly. 
His eldest brother had died at three years of age. 
He himself was saved by the tender care of Ma- 
dame de Maintenon, then simple governess in 
Madame de Montespan's household. Madame 
de Maintenon loved this child all the more for 
the trouble he had given her. According to Saint- 
Simon, she felt for Monsieur du Maine "a nurse's 
foible." She used to say, speaking of him, 
"my heart's tenderness." She consulted num- 
berless doctors about him, even going incognito 
to Antwerp to show her nursling to a celebrated 
physician. This happened in 1674. The child, 
four years old, had one leg longer than the other. 
If we can believe Madame de Caylus, niece 
of Madame de Maintenon, the Antwerp treat- 
ment resulted in making the short leg longer 
than the other one, so that, in any event, the little 



The Duchess of Maine 215 

prince must have limped had he walked; but he 
could not walk. The baths of Bareges at last put 
him on his feet, but did not prevent the halting. 
This and his puny appearance made him extraor- 
dinarily timid, both physically and mentally. 

As a child, he was full of malice, wit, and intel- 
ligence. Later he was studious; his mind was 
active and bright. At seven years of age he was 
looked upon as a little prodigy, and his com- 
positions and letters were published under the 
title: Various Works of a Seven-year -old Author. 
This volume has by way of preface an epistle in 
honour of the king and of Madame de Monte- 
span, composed by Racine. At the death of the 
great Corneille, Monsieur du Maine — he was then 
fourteen — would have liked to replace him at 
the French Academy. The king refused his con- 
sent, not that he considered the Various Works 
an insufficient literary title to glory, but that the 
author seemed to him rather young. As time 
went on, Monsieur du Maine grew yet fonder of 
literature. He would have been perfectly happy 
as a bookworm, had not the accident of his birth 
condemned him to attempt great and heroic deeds. 

He was by no means fitted for such deeds. 
His timidity remained insurmountable. He was 
quite incapable of being a great warrior or of 
reducing an antagonist to silence. The king and 
Madame de Maintenon, in vain, seized every op- 
portunity of making their favourite shine. They 
could do nothing against his nature, which had 



2i6 Princesses and Court Ladies 

destined the young prince to pacific occupations; 
they only succeeded in making him sly. Monsieur 
du Maine's enemies publicly accused him of hy- 
pocrisy. A friend of the family said, in gentler 
terms, something which smacks of the same judg- 
ment: "His heart remained impenetrable; dis- 
trust watched at its threshold, and but few senti- 
ments struggled through." ^ 

His immense wealth made up for many defects. 
As a consequence of events which it is needless to 
recall, he had become heir to the Grande Made- 
moiselle. Apart from his birth. Monsieur du 
Maine was one of the most brilliant "catches" in 
France. 

When he first thought of marrying, Louis XIV 
tried to dissuade him. Though this son was very 
dear to him, he was not blind to his physical de- 
fects. Besides, he saw the disadvantages of pro- 
longing bastard branches of the royal house. He 
said rather brutally to the young prince "that it 
was not for such as he to seek for heirs." Madame 
de Maintenon, now all powerful, pleaded for her 
pupil. "He is one of those," answered Louis XIV, 
"who ought never to marry." She insisted, car- 
ried her point, and looked about her for a prin- 
cess. The daughters of Monsieur le Prince struck 
her as really too small. The tallest was about 
the height of a ten-year-old child, and her three 
sisters seemed mere toys. Their sister-in-law, the 
Duchess of Bourbon, had nicknamed them "dolls 

» Memoirs of Madame de Staal-Delaunay. 



The Duchess of Maine 217 

of the blood," and this name fitted them admir- 
ably. Madame de Maintenon wrote to her friend 
the Abbess of Fontevrault: "The Duke of Maine 
wishes to marry, and one does not know whom to 
give him. The king would prefer a French girl, 
even if she were not of very high birth, • to a 
foreign princess. . . . The daughters of Monsieur 
le Prince are mere dwarfs; do you know of any 
others?"^ 

It was quite useless for Madame de Maintenon 
to look about her, for Monsieur du Maine had 
made up his mind. The idea of entering the house 
of Conde was too tempting for him to seek else- 
where. Then came the question of choice. 

Of the three unmarried daughters of Monsieur 
le Prince, the eldest, Mademoiselle de Cond^, was 
pretty and intelligent. A fraction more height 
caused the duke to prefer the second, Anne Louise. 
Mademoiselle de Conde was in such despair at 
having to remain under her father's roof, that she 
fell into a decline, dragged on for a few years, 
then died. 

The bride elect walked on clouds. She was but 
fifteen and a half, the bridegroom twenty-two. 
Louis XIV gave them a royal wedding. Tuesday, 
March the i8th, 1692, there was a reception called 
an " appartement " at Trianon. This "apparte- 
ment" was a great evening entertainment, with- 
out dancing; it began at seven o'clock and ended 
at ten. In one of the drawing-rooms, there was 

* Letter of September the 27th, 1691. 



2i8 Princesses and Court Ladies 

music, refreshments in another. In the other 
rooms, tables were prepared for every sort of 
game. Entire hberty was allowed in these gath- 
erings, which we are apt to think stiff. Eti- 
quette was banished. Each one was free to do 
what he or she desired, played with no matter 
whom, gave orders to the lackeys if a table was 
missing or a chair wanted. The king appeared 
only for a few minutes, and under the reign of 
Madame de Maintenon even abstained entirely 
from showing himself at the " appartements. " 
Long before 1692 he appeared only on great occa- 
sions. His presence, this time, was all the more 
appreciated. 

He remained a long time at the Trianon recep- 
tion, and presided at one of the supper tables. 
The following day, March the 19th, the wedding 
party waited on him in his study at Versailles. 
The procession was then formed and proceeded to 
the chapel, where the marriage ceremony took 
place. A banquet followed immediately, then 
came a grand concert, games, supper, and the con- 
ducting of the newly married couple to the nuptial 
chamber, where the young people were at last 
left to themselves, after twelve hours of cere- 
mony, of bowing, of compliments. 

On Thursday, the 20th, the new duchess put 
on fine clothes and lay on her bed. In this way, 
she received the whole court. Friday and the 
next days were spent in festivities and rejoic- 
ings. Madame de Maintenon took fright, seeing 




Due DU MAINE 
From an old copper print 



The Duchess of Maine 219 

how frail seemed the "Httle doll." On Tuesday 
the 25th she wrote to Madame de Brinon, an 
Ursuline nun, who had had a hand in this mar- 
riage : 

"... Now to speak of . . . Madame du Maine, 
with whom the king is much pleased, as he is with 
her husband. This is the marriage which you con- 
sidered so desirable : so did I. May God grant that 
they be always as content as I now am ! They say 
that she is to spend Holy Week at Montbuisson; 
give her a good rest. Here she is being half killed 
with the court fatigues and constraints. She is 
weighed down with gold and jewels, and her head- 
dress is heavier than all her little person. Among 
them they will keep her from growing in height 
and health. She is prettier without a cap than 
with all sorts of ornaments. She scarcely eats 
at all, I fear sleeps but little, and I am terri- 
bly afraid that she is over young to be married. I 
should like to have her at Saint-Cyr, dressed like 
one of the 'green ribbons'^ and running merrily 
in the gardens. There are no austerities compar- 
able to those of society." 

The first week was one of enchantment for every- 
body. Madame de Maintenon rejoiced over the 
honeymoon of her dear pupil, and expected great 
things from the new duchess, whom she thought to 
govern at her will. As to this, she soon saw that 
she had counted without her host. Scarcely had 
Madame du Maine understood what court life really 

* The "green ribbons " were the pupils of a class for young pupils. 



220 Princesses and Court Ladies 

was, what the king required of all the women who 
surrounded him, than she took a great resolution, 
and determined to revolt against such abominable 
slavery. 

A great court lady was bound to be always in 
attendance, always ready to be pleased by what 
pleased the king. She must be hungry and thirsty, 
warm and cold, according to His Majesty's good 
pleasure. Ill or well, even with child, or just after 
child-birth, she must be superbly dressed, low- 
necked and bare-headed; she must travel in this 
guise and endure, smilingly, sun, wind, and dust; 
she must dance, sit up late, sup with hearty appe- 
tite, be gay, and look in good health, all this on 
the days and hours prescribed by the king, and at 
a moment's notice. The journeys were the great- 
est trial of all. Louis XIV loved to fill his im- 
mense carriage with women in fine clothes. Quan- 
tities of provisions were stowed away in it. No 
matter what might be the season, or the weather, 
all the windows were open, and the curtains raised, 
because he liked plenty of air. Scarcely started, 
he forced the ladies to eat "until they nearly ex- 
ploded," says Saint-Simon. It lasted the whole 
day long, and none but the king had a right to 
leave the coach ; at the end of the journey, supper 
had to be eaten as though nothing had disturbed 
the appetites. Some of the women came near 
dying on the road, and nothing but the super- 
natural strength imparted by monarchical faith 
kept them alive. Several fainted and thereby 



The Duchess of Maine 221 

incurred lasting disgrace: it was an unpardonable 
offence. 

Madame du Maine swore that nothing would 
induce her to submit to such tyranny, and she kept 
her oath. For fifteen years she had endured the 
cruel constraint of her father's palace, and she had 
had enough of it. She made up her mind never 
to put herself out for any one, and she threw aside 
etiquette, official evening receptions, moral con- 
versations with Madame de Maintenon, journeys 
in court dress and luncheons in the king's coach. 
She did worse still, she freed herself from the long 
religious ceremonies and pious exercises in fashion 
since Louis XIV had become austere. August 
13, 1693, Madame de Maintenon wrote to Madame 
de Brinon, this time in a somewhat sour strain: 
"There is a chsLpter which I must discuss with 
you; that of Madame du Maine. You deceived 
me as to a most important item; that of piety. 
She has no tendency toward it, and means to do 
like others. I dare say nothing to a young prin- 
cess brought up by virtue itself, and I have no 
wish to make of her a professional devotee, but 
I confess that I should like to see her more reg- 
ular in her duties, and I should like her to adopt 
a kind of life more pleasing to God, to the king, 
and to the Duke of Maine, who is sensible enough 
to wish his wife better behaved than some 
others." 

Madame de Maintenon then complained of the 
duchess's want of submission, and added so as to 



222 Princesses and Court Ladies 

take the sting out of her reproaches : ' ' On the other 
hand, she is such as you represented, pretty, amia- 
ble, gay, witty, and, above all, much in love with 
her husband, who, for his part, is passionately 
fond of her, and would spoil her rather than cause 
her the slightest pain. If she escapes from me, I 
shall know what to expect, and, be persuaded that 
the king will not, in all his family, find a single 
member of it who will turn out well." 

Madame de Maintenon ver}^ soon "knew what 
to expect." Madame du Maine was already out 
of her power, and it was through a mere, fleeting 
illusion, that Madame de Maintenon fancied she 
could still hold her. This young woman submitted 
to no one's influence, to her husband's least of all. 
He was quite dumfounded at the way in which 
she turned his remonstrances into ridicule. She 
warned her sisters-in-law not to meddle with her 
affairs, taking a "bee" as an emblem with these 
words as motto: " Piccola si, ma ja pur gravi le 
ferite.'' (" She is small, but she stings smartly.") 
As to Monsieur du Maine, she terrorized him, and 
held him prisoner. He dared neither breathe nor 
move in his wife's presence. She was so thoroughly 
convinced of the honour she had done him by this 
marriage, that the poor young man's timidity 
grew apace. Then she flew into a passion on the 
least provocation, and of that he had a mortal 
terror. He made up his mind never to say her 
nay, and to obey her in all things. The only one 
who might have turned her, was the king, whose 



The Duchess of Maine 223 

glance sufficed to crush all the other princesses. 
Louis XIV probably feared to compromise his dig- 
nity by attacking this impetuous little person. 
He prudently made his remarks to the Duke of 
Maine, who answered that he was quite power- 
less. "Thus," said Madame de Caylus, "as she 
had become incorrigible, she was left at liberty 
to do whatsoever she chose." That was all she 
asked. 

The doll turned out to be a little she-devil. No 
one ever imagined such a thing, on account of the 
excellent discipline in Monsieur le Prince's house- 
hold, and all were astonished to discover in this 
Hop o' my Thumb of a princess, the most enter- 
prising of women, the boldest, the wittiest, the 
most vivacious that ever existed. And what a 
temper! "Her nature is impetuous and unequal," 
wrote Madame de Staal; "she grows angry, she is 
afflicted, flies into a rage and is appeased twenty 
times in a quarter of an hour. Often, she shakes 
off melancholy, for a fit of gaiety during which she 
is most amiable." She conversed with eloquence, 
vehemence, and volubility; the only thing to do 
in her presence was to keep silence ; as a matter of 
fac^, she never listened to any one else. She was 
passionate to the verge of madness, and, above all, 
she was a little monster of selfishness and a prodigy 
of vanity. " She believes in herself as she believes 
in God and Descartes, without discernment and 
without discussion." 

She believed this, because she was herself, and 



224 Princesses and Court Ladies 

also because she was persuaded that God chose 
a particular sort of clay wherewith to fashion 
princes. They appear to be like other mortals, but 
that is merely an appearance. They are demi- 
gods, and Madame du Maine by a special dispensa- 
tion of Providence was a little more than a demi- 
goddess. Therefore, she had a right to do what- 
ever she pleased, and she made use of that 
right. She owed it to herself, on the other 
hand, to conquer a position worthy of her divin- 
ity, and she undertook to push on her halting 
husband, since he had not the courage to push 
himself. 

By a singular freak of nature, Madame du Maine, 
with all her pride and haughtiness, was born a 
comic-opera shepherdess. One is not, with impu- 
nity, the daughter of a prince who took the garb of 
a ''marchande a la toilette.'" The little duchess 
adored finery and conceits, those of the mind, as 
well as those of her gowns, gallant feasts and small 
verses. She felt the need of romantic pleasures, 
a mythological life, a Parnassus of gilt card-board, 
where, disguised as a nymph, she could reign over 
choice spirits, decked out as Arcadian shepherds. 
This brilliant and dangerous heroine was, at times, 
supremely ridiculous. 

We have seen that Madame de Maintenon con- 
sidered her pretty. For her own part, Madame 
du Maine was perfectly satisfied with her face. 
The public was less so, and Madame de Staal, in a 
malicious paragraph, has noted this difference of 



The Duchess of Maine 225 

opinion. "Her mirror could not give her the 
slightest doubt as to the charm of her visage, but 
she put less faith in the verdict of her own eyes 
than in the judgment of those who proclaimed 
that she was beautiful and well proportioned." 
According to the portraits of the day, the public 
was right; Madame du Maine was no beauty. In 
her first youth she is represented with fine eyes, 
heavy cheeks, a baby face, made heavier still by 
an immense edifice of hair. It is easy to see how 
she deceived others with this goody-goody coun- 
tenance, which gave no hint of the volcano which 
she really was. 

Later, her features took shape and hardened. 
There is, in the palace of Versailles, a portrait of 
Madame du Maine on the verge of old age, which 
is cruelly realistic. It is by Nattier. The duchess 
has a dwarf's face, massive and without any grace. 
Her nose is clumsy, her mouth vulgar; she has a 
double chin and coarse skin. No vestige of the 
goddess remains. But that was in the future. 
Just now, we have to do with a tiny person, 
fresh and graceful, who hides her vast ambition 
under childish ways. 

The nuptial torches were not yet extinguished 
when already Madame du Maine meditated as to 
the advantage that she might secure by her un- 
equal marriage. The French court was then a 
fair field for intrigue. At that time so many 
things changed, that an ambitious spirit might 
aspire to almost any position. The old aristo- 



226 Princesses and Court Ladies 

cratic society was falling to pieces. The thing 
was to pick up the fragments and with them build 
up a pedestal. 

II 

According to appearances, the reign of Louis 
XIV was the apotheosis of the French aristocracy. 
One is deceived by the glamour and splendour 
of the court; by the brilliant jests of its deni- 
zens ; by their resounding quarrels about questions 
of etiquette which are important only in very 
high circles; by the showers of favours and gifts, 
of purses of gold, of pensions and sinecures, that 
the king let fall on his courtiers ; lastly, by the 
majestic air which the costumes and the grace of 
the day gave to the most insignificant viscount, 
as we see by the portraits and the pictures. When 
we evoke the gilded galleries and drawing-rooms 
of the Versailles palace, filled with these resplen- 
dent gentlemen, with their voluminous wigs, 
clothed in silk and velvet, glittering with gold and 
jewels, who are absolutely sure of their own im- 
portance, one is tempted to believe in it likewise 
and to bow down before them to the very earth. 

Those among them, however, who were wise, 
knew what was hidden beneath all this splendour. 
Men like the Duke of Chevreuse, or of Beauvil- 
liers, or Saint-Simon, were not deceived by the 
shimmer of vain honours and embroidered coats. 
They saw that the high classes were ruined by 



The Duchess of Maine 227 

stupid luxury, and reduced "for the sake of 
bread" to unworthy marriages and to still more 
unworthy speculations. They saw these men use- 
less and idle, kept out of the ministry and public 
offices, given up to all the vices bred of laziness. 
They saw the first dignitaries of the kingdom, 
the peers, humbled on every occasion ; the majesty 
of the royal blood compromised by the privileges 
granted to the recognised bastards; the public 
places, even the court offices, snatched by men of 
letters or magistrates, who treated the nobles as 
though they were their equals. Colbert, at first, 
when he wrote to the dukes, called them Mon- 
seigneur, and they replied Monsieur; the reverse 
took place under Louvois. They, in a word, saw 
about them so radical a change, at their expense, 
that they were aghast and yet were quite inca- 
pable of turning the tide. 

Madame du Maine was one of those who had 
their eyes open. She saw all the perturbation 
caused by the progress of the middle classes, and 
she did not regret it; disorder, in the equivocal 
situation which resulted from her husband's birth, 
was favourable to her. On the very day of her 
engagement, her plan was already formed. In 
life, she had two objects, equally dear to her: one 
was to get out of it as much enjoyment as pos- 
sible; the other, to become, wife of a bastard 
though she was to be, "one of the kingdom's 
greatest ladies." 

It seemed as though the second of these aims 



228 Princesses and Court Ladies 

was likely to be the more difficult of the two to 
obtain. The duchess was not of that opinion. 
She counted upon the trampling down of bar- 
riers, and the all-powerful protection of Madame 
de Main tenon. It was likely that the timorous 
nature of Monsieur du Maine would prove an 
obstacle. The duke was of little use at the hour 
of battle. On the other hand, he was invaluable 
in small manoeuvres and intrigues, to push his 
way an inch at a time, noiselessly, so humbly 
that no one heeded him. Eternally on the watch, 
he allowed no chance to escape. Now, it was one 
seat at court, instead of another, the fashion of a 
cloak, one bow less to make, and all these trifles 
brought him slowly but surely nearer the longed- 
for rank. In his way he was ambitious, and his 
wife reasoned that, by pushing him in, she could 
get some help out of him. Therefore she had 
faith in their common future. The important 
thing to be accomplished at once, was enjoyment; 
the rest would come of itself all in good time. 

Unfortunately, this important thing was not 
easy to obtain. As to the pleasures of the court, 
they were not even to be considered. The king, 
decidedly, was turning virtuous and wished for 
solemn faces about him. It was enough to make 
one die of ennui. It is true that Madame du 
Maine could go for amusement to the castle of 
Clagny, built by Louis XIV, in less austere days, 
for Madame de Montespan, and given by her to 
her son. Clagny was a wide, low construction, 




NICOLAS DE MALEZIEU 
From an old copper print 



The Duchess of Maine 229 

built in a noble style and surrounded by a great 
symmetrical garden, ornamented with yews cut in 
conical shapes. It was then looked upon as a 
marvel. "It is a splendid castle," said Saint- 
Simon, "with its fountains, its gardens, its park; 
on all sides are aqueducts worthy of the Romans; 
neither Asia nor any ancient power ever offered 
anything so vast, so complicated, so artistic, so 
magnificent, so filled with the rarest monuments 
of every age, of exquisite marbles, of bronzes, of 
pictiires, of statues, nothing so complete." So 
much splendour did not save Clagny from one 
radical defect: Clagny was in Versailles, too near 
the king. Its inhabitants formed a part of the 
court, they were still satellites. 

The little duchess tried Chatenay, a modest 
country-seat in the environs of Sceaux. Chatenay 
belonged to Monsieur de Malezieu, ex-tutor of 
Monsieur du Maine and the perfect model of those 
cultivated men whom the great in those days 
attached to their persons so as to have at hand, 
some one to concoct their witticisms, their society 
verses, and their love-letters. Malezieu had the 
reputation of being very learned, and, in Madame 
du Maine's household, he was looked upon as an 
oracle. "His decisions," says Madame de Staal, 
"were as infallible as those of Pythagoras to his 
disciples; the hottest disputes came to an end if 
some one exclaimed, ' He said it.' " He gave the 
duchess lessons in Latin, in philosophy according 
to Descartes, in astronomy. For her benefit he 



230 Princesses and Court Ladies 

declaimed the tragedies of Sophocles and organised 
her festivities. He showed a fertile imagination for 
verse or prose trifles, for the arranging of fireworks 
and ballets. He was obsequious with the great, 
disdainful toward the humble, not bad at heart, 
but of a rather low nature. He was a man both 
universal and indispensable. He was also untiring. 
Fontenelle speaks of his ' ' fiery and robust temper- 
ament." His portraits show him with a pleasant 
and open countenance, resplendent with health. 

In 1699, when the court was at Fontainebleau, 
Madame du Maine conferred upon him the honour 
of staying at his country house. In her character 
of goddess she revived the golden age. Nothing 
was thought of but innocence and simplicity, — 
princely simplicity, of course. ' ' Rustic Life ' ' was 
led, in the midst of 

" Ces plaisirs doux et purs, que la raison desire." ^ 

There one was shielded from "the tumult and 
disorder of the passions ; ' ' one enjoyed ' ' the beau- 
ties of the country;" one played at little games; 
all day long pretty nothings were said. The bad 
habits of luxury showed themselves, however, at 
meals: "The table is abundantly and delicately 
served and the company gay; music mixes with 
the talk, and follows the repast. There are flutes, 
hautboys, violins, spinets, and even trumpets, the 
sound of which is softened so as better to mingle 
with that of the other instruments." Those last 

• Letter of Ahh6 Genest to Mademoiselle de Scudery. 



The Duchess of Maine 231 

two lines are delightful ; only a born courtier could 
imagine trumpets that understood their duty of 
being pastoral and giving the illusion of a reed- 
pipe. The evenings were enlivened by compli- 
cated fireworks. Sometimes these represented 
"a besieged city," taken by storm, or again, "two 
great ships that seemed anchored in a field," bom- 
barding a fort which ends by "bursting into the 
air like a girandole ; " or else, * ' two flaming globes, 
which open and give one ' ' the image of all that has 
been taught us about the conflagration of the uni- 
verse." Such fine doings attracted all the villagers 
of the neighbourhood, and the festivities became 
almost too rustic for the pleasure of the guests. 
Luckily, night threw its veil over faces and cos- 
tumes too coarse for a royal idyl. Thanks to it, 
"all seemed beautiful and clean." Monsieur du 
Maine "rejoiced with great tenderness to see the 
rabble tasting the fruits of peace." 

Chatenay was voted "enchanting." On the 
20th of December of that same year (1699), Mon- 
sieur du Maine bought the castle of Sceaux which 
Colbert and his son, Marquess of Seignelay, had 
made one of the most beautiful and agreeable resi- 
dences near Paris. Little remains of it nowa- 
days, but the Bievre still flows through the valley, 
the hills still show their gentle and intricate curves, 
the lovely French sky still sheds its tranquil light 
on the spot that once was Sceaux. Imagination 
easily places in their setting the ancient castle and 
gardens, each as old engravings show them to us. 



232 Princesses and Court Ladies 

The castle had been built for Colbert by Per- 
rault. It enclosed three sides of a vast, square 
court. The symmetry was perfect, the decoration 
severe, the style noble and graceful. Straight 
avenues, great regularly placed iron gates, out- 
houses built on a line uniting pavilions, each like 
the other, geometrical flower beds, well- cut bow- 
ers, groves, with trees planted at regular intervals ; 
a majestic assemblage of straight lines and acute 
angles, of circles, half circles, quarter circles; 
treasures of sculpture, of paintings, of furniture, 
scattered in the castle, in the Aurora Pavilion,* 
and in the avenues and shrubberies ; a prodigious 
quantity of running and' gushing water, brought 
by the aqueducts ; a fabulous number of fountains, 
cascades, and canals ; an inimitable look of gran- 
deur, of order and harmony; for horizon, one of 
the prettiest landscapes of the environs of Paris, 
one of the gentlest, the softest, the most dis- 
creet, one of those veritable French scenes which 
penetrate through the eyes to the heart of 
those born and bred among them; such was the 
magnificent and charming dwelling chosen by 
Madame du Maine to be her Parnassus and her 
Olympus. 

Transported with delight, the little duchess took 
possession of her new domain, so happily encir- 
cled by hills and slopes as to seem a tiny universe, 

' The celebrated Aurora Pavilion, situated in the Park, con- 
tained a great ceiling by Lebrtin, the Waking of Aurora and two 
lesser ones by Delobel. 



The Duchess of Maine 133 

enclosed, shut in on every side. The Bi^vre, with 
a great loop, embraced this Lilliputian kingdom. 
Madame du Maine felt here entirely at home, 
quite a sovereign, between her chosen courtiers, 
eager to please her, and the peasants of the neigh- 
bourhood who depended on the castle. There she 
somewhat forgot the rest of the world and grew 
accustomed to mistake the life at Sceaux for the 
life of humanity. This error was doomed to be 
fatal to her; Madame du Maine's ideas were un- 
hinged. 

She hastened to organise an existence according 
to her heart, where pleasure became a duty and a 
labour. She amused herself by day, she amused 
herself by night, and ordered that all should do 
likewise. So much the worse for those who did 
not enjoy such a life. She surrounded herself 
with paid amusers, bound to be witty at a given 
moment. Malezieu examined the candidates. He 
suggested the subjects on which they had to speak, 
and they were accepted or refused according to 
his report. She had poets whose duty it was to 
flatter her, to compare her to Venus, and to call 
her "Heaven's masterpiece." During dessert, a 
signal was given, and they tossed back and forth 
songs in honour of the ''Nymph of Sceaux." 
Abbe Genest preserved a whole volume of these 
rapid productions.^ It is diverting reading. Even 
the embarrassment of the men who found nothing 
to say was utilised as incense? the ingenious 

* Les Divertissements de Sceaux (Paris, 17 12, Etienne Ganeau). 



234 Princesses and Court Ladies 

Mal^zieu hastened to extemporise some verses 
like these: 

" Lorsque Minerve nous ordonne, 
On a toujours assez d 'esprit; 
Si Ton n'en a pas, elle en donne." 

No one had the right to be dull, or useless, or 
grave. Philosophy did not save one from im- 
provising rhymes, or age from concocting madri- 
gals. No one could free himself from the poetical 
lotteries,* which to-day would put even Academ- 
icians to flight. All the letters of the alphabet 
were thrown into a bag and drawn. The winner 
of S. owed a sonnet, A. an apotheosis or an aria, 
O. allowed a choice between an ode or an opera, 
and so forth. There was no escape, under the 
penalty of exile from Sceaux. High-born guests 
bought the verses of some poor devil of a poet; 
but men like Malezieu, Chaulieu, Fontenelle, and 
later Madame de Staal, and Voltaire, were not 
allowed to cheat and were bound to pay the 
forfeit. Malezieu called Sceaux "the galleys of 
wits." 

No one had a free hour to be dull in peace. 
Enigmas and anagrams were in ambush along the 
passages. Puzzles whizzed at one, like an arrow, 
in the duchess's circle, given rhymes had to be 
instantly filled up, and there were verses, gallant 
or stinging, which had to be answered offhand. 
There were numberless games where forfeits had 

» See the Comedie a la Cour by Adolphe Jullien. 



The Duchess of Maine 235 

to be redeemed with roundelays, fables, triolets, 
or virelays. One received poetical invitations 
to dinner, anonymous letters, sentimental or 
sprightly, free couplets, and one was condemned 
to answer after the same fashion. What a relief 
one must have experienced, what delightful re- 
pose, what healthy enjoyment, when, on leaving 
Sceaux, one fell upon honest folk who took their 
soup with simplicity, protected from all logo- 
griphs, acrostics, and songs, where one could 
warm one's feet without describing this comfort- 
ing act in verse! 

It is needless to say that among so many agree- 
able nothings some were said which became classic. 
One evening some one said to Fontenelle: "What 
is the difference between our hostess and a clock ? " 
— "One tells the hours, the other makes us forget 
them," answered Fontenelle. It was also at 
Sceaux that, to redeem a forfeit, Voltaire made 
this well-known riddle: 

" Cinq voyelles, une consonne, 
En Frangais composent mon nom, 
Et je porte sur ma personne 
De quoi Tecrire sans crayon." 

To Madame du Maine was left the honour of 
guessing oiseau. 

The little duchess took all this childishness most 
seriously. She applied herself with all her might 
and main to compose a letter from the Great Mogul 
to a lady at Sceaux, or an indecent epistle ad- 



^3^ Princesses and Court Ladies 

dressed to her brother, Monsieur le Due. She 
founded the order of the Bee, with the motto al- 
ready quoted, and in so doing displayed as much 
solemnity as the King of France may have shown 
when he instituted the order of the Holy Ghost. 
The Bee had statutes, officers; an oath, of which 
this is the formula, was taken without a smile : " I 
swear, by the bees of Mount Hymettus, fidelity 
and obedience to the perpetual directress of the 
order, to wear all my life the model of the Bee, to 
accomplish, as long as I live, the statutes of the 
order ; and, if I am false to my vows, I consent that, 
for me, the honey shall be changed to gall, the wax 
to tallow, the flowers to thistles, and that all bees 
and wasps shall prick me with their darts." 

Never was amusement more laborious, and we 
are not at the end of the pleasure list. Madame 
du Maine had a passion for theatricals. She had 
the patience to learn most of the longest parts in 
the repertory of her day. The kind mattered 
little ; a princess is sure to be always excellent ; and 
the quality of the plays was a matter of indiffer- 
ence, for, passing between her lips, everything be- 
came equally beautiful. She played, therefore, 
with the same success, tragedy and comedy, com- 
edy ballets, farce, allegory, and pastoral pieces. 
She went from the part of Athalie to that of Pene- 
lope, in the tragedy of the Abbe Genest, from Celi- 
m^ne to Finemouche in the Tarentole of Mal^zieu. 
Plautus succeeded Quinault on the play-bill, Eurip- 
ides came after Lamotte. 



The Duchess of Maine 237 

She gave herself incredible trouble. She con- 
demned herself to take lessons, to rehearse, to try- 
on costumes. During whole months, she led the 
terrible life of a provincial actress, forced to learn, 
every day, a new part. She went to Clagny so as 
to invite the court to a series of performances. 
The courtiers came in crowds, went into ecstasies, 
and made fun of her behind her back. * ' One could 
not understand," said Saint-Simon, "this folly 
which consisted in dressing like an actress, of 
learning and declaiming long parts and making a 
spectacle of oneself on a stage." Monsieur du 
Maine felt that his wife was supremely ridiculous, 
but he "did not dare to interfere, for fear that her 
head might be completely turned, as he once very 
clearly told Madame la Princesse in the presence of 
Madame de Saint-Simon." 

Monsieur du Maine, had he been perfectly frank^ 
might have added that he held his peace for fear 
of scenes. His gentleness did not avert them, and 
he became more timid after each "outburst,"' 
whence the pretty definition of Madame de Caylus : 
"Monsieur du Maine's marriage put the finishing 
touch to his unfortunate disposition." He was 
not even admitted to his wife's entertainments. 
She sent him away, and, obedient, he shut himself 
up in a turret, where he spent whole days drawing 
plans for his gardeners. The Paris song-makers 
knew all this and did not spare him; but what 
could he do ? 



23 8 Princesses and Court Ladies 

" De sa femme et de sa fortune 
Esclave soumis et rampant, 
Du Maine ne se livre a I'une 
Que quand de I'autre il est content. 

" Sa femme joue en comedienne, 
Recoit toutes sortes de gens, 
Et sa maison est toujours pleine 
De coquettes et de galants. 

" A Malezieu cette princesse 
Prodigue ses plus doux appas; 
II lui montre de la tendresse, 
Mais on dit qu'il, ne I'aime pas." ^ 

Madame du Maine was scarcely rewarded for 
all her trouble. She was bored. The harder she 
worked for amusement's sake, the more bored was 
she. The nights particularly weighed on her, for 
she scarcely slept. She often spent them in gam- 
bling, and this was the origin of the Great Nights 
of Sceaux. An abb6 was the inventor of these 
nights, and Madame de Staal organised the first. 

This witty Staal -Delaunay ^ was a most un- 
fortunate creature. Nature had made her sensi- 
tive and proud. Thanks to her education, she 
knew her own worth. Fate threw her into a ser- 
vile situation where pride is a misfortune, and 
sensitiveness ridiculous. She began by being 
maid to Madame du Maine, obtained her advance- 
ment by dint of intelligence, and could never 

' Recueil Maurepas (1710). 

' Mademoiselle Delaunay became Madame de Staal by her 
marriage with an officer of the Swiss Guards. 



The Duchess of Maine 239 

console herself for having been in contact with 
servants. She was attracted by marquesses and 
knights, who treated her cavalierly, as an in- 
ferior ; she was in despair and could not help mak- 
ing other advances. Chained rather than at- 
tached to Sceaux, she there grew old and died, 
without any other consolation than that of having, 
secretly, written Memoirs that avenged her, for 
in this most agreeable narrative the egotism of the 
great is shown in all its nakedness. 

She was no longer quite a lady's maid, she was 
not yet anything else, when the Abb^ de Vau- 
brun conceived the idea of varying by some 
"diversion" a night that the duchess was to spend 
at the card table. He imagined an "apparition 
of some one who should personify Night swathed 
in her black veil ; the apparition was to thank the 
princess for the preference granted to her over 
day ; the goddess was to have a follower who would 
sing a fine air on the same subject." The abbe 
begged Madame de Staal to compose and recite 
Night's speech. The speech was somewhat fiat, 
and the author got mixed up in her recitation, 
but the idea pleased. The Great Nights were 
inaugurated. 

In their day they made much stir in the world ; 
now, they seem rather insipid. Allegories and 
comic scenes, mixed with dances and songs, were 
composed in honour of Madame du Maine. An em- 
bassy from Greenland came to offer her the crown, 
and the chief addressed her thus : ' ' Fame . . . has 



240 Princesses and Court Ladies 

instructed us of the virtues, the charms, the tastes, 
of your Royal Highness. We have heard that 
you hate the sun. . . . Many affirm that your 
enmity comes from a discussion as to the nobihty, 
the origin, the beauty, the excellence of your re- 
spective lights, etc." ... Or else learned men 
came to consult Malezieu as to a star newly dis- 
covered, the which star was no other than the 
duchess, presiding over the Great Nights. Or, 
again, the enchanter Merlin indicated Sceaux to 
the seekers after treasures, and there they found 
Madame du Maine. Another time, Venus la- 
mented the loss of her girdle which made her 
mistress of all hearts, and through Apollo she 
heard that the girdle had been appropriated by 
Madame du Maine. ^ Providence has kindly 
granted to the great ones of this earth the grace 
to enjoy incense. These fine discourses delighted 
the duchess by their truthfulness, the public by the 
splendour of their setting, and morning found 
the whole castle still on foot. The entertainment 
ended by a magnificent breakfast, at which the 
wits were bidden to shine. There was no holiday 
for them, even after a sleepless night. 

The indefatigable little duchess still found time 
for serious studies. She neglected neither Latin 
nor astronomy, and to Malezieu she added an- 
other professor of philosophy, the handsome, 
amiable, fascinating, insinuating, and compromis- 
ing Cardinal of Polignac, author of a long poem, 

' Adolphe Jullien, loc. cit. 



The Duchess of Maine 241 

since forgotten, and of a witticism justly cele- 
brated. The poem was entitled VAnti Lucrece, 
and was in Latin. In it, the cardinal undertook 
the defence of healthy morality and good theology. 
The mot was pronounced in the gardens of Marly, 
during a downpour: "It is nothing. Sire," said this 
flower of all courtiers, "Marly rain wets no one." 
Madame du Maine greatly admired the Anti 
Lucrece. She caused its author to explain it to 
her, and evil tongues wagged with regard to these 
lessons. But when did not evil tongues wag? 
Simple-minded folk greatly admired the little 
duchess. "One can say of her," writes the Duke 
of Luynes in his Memoirs, " that she has a superior 
and universal mind, strong lungs, and admirable 
eloquence. She had studied the most abstract 
sciences; philosophy, physics, astronomy. She 
could talk on any subject like a well-informed 
person and in well -chosen language ; her voice was 
loud and strong, and she could converse in the 
same high tone for three or four hours without 
fatigue. Novels and light literature likewise 
greatly interested her." 

It was not without cause that she was admired, 
for the childish pleasures, the little nothings, the 
foolishness, which seemed to absorb her attention, 
masked very bold political plots, directed by her 
with great perseverance. Madame du Maine never 
forgot that, on the day of her engagement, she had 
vowed to herself that she would become one of the 
kingdom's most important personages. She never 



242 Princesses and Court Ladies 

for one moment flagged, she never rested after a 
success, never permitted her husband to rest. The 
duke could not make it out. Seeing her so frivo- 
lous, so determined to ruin herself in fireworks and 
masquerades, he fancied she had given up more 
serious matters, and allowed himself a little respite. 
Triumphantly, one fine day, he brought her a trans- 
lation, in verse, of that Anti Lucrece, which she so 
admired. The duchess flew into a rage. It was 
all very well for her to go into ecstasies over the 
Anti Lucrece and its gallant author. "You will 
see," cried she, "that some morning you will wake 
up member of the French Academ}^ while Mon- 
sieur d'Orleans gets the regency!" The duke was 
quite abashed. 

The duchess was unjust, for her husband, like 
herself, had not been idle. While she reigned at 
Sceaux, he was assiduous at Versailles, and fol- 
lowed the king to Trianon, to Marly, to Fontaine- 
bleau. He was the good son, the tender son, who, 
lovingly, contemplated a glorious father, who could 
not live without seeing him, who gave up his pas- 
sion for solitude, so as to breathe the same air, who 
was attentive, thoughtful, devotion itself. Be- 
sides, he was truly amiable, and ever willing to 
amuse the king with some clever anecdote. No 
less assiduous with regard to Madame de Mainte- 
non, he confided to her his plans and his dreams, 
and she guided and counselled him, interceding 
for him. With the help of this faithful ally. Mon- 
sieur du Maine's good luck increased day by day. 



The Duchess of Maine 243 

Not a year went by that did not bring him some 
privilege, a sinecure for himself or his children, a 
patent letter bringing him a little nearer the throne. 
Recognised, he became a peer of the realm; from 
peer, officially, prince of the blood, enjoying the 
same honours as the legitimate princes. This was 
already very fine for a bastard ; Monsieur du Maine 
obtained still more. After the death of the Dukes 
of Burgundy and Berry, a decree (July, 17 14) called 
to the succession of the crown the Duke of Maine, 
the Count of Toulouse, his brother, and their de- 
scendants. The little lame man touched the crown 
with the tips of his fingers ! And he obtained more, 
ever more. Louis XIV, carefully schooled, sus- 
pected the Duke of Orleans, first prince of the 
blood, of having poisoned the Dauphin and his 
brother; and in his will he took from his nephew 
the principal prerogatives of the regency to trans- 
fer them to the Duke of Maine. The latter thus 
grasped the crown with both hands, for the future 
Louis XV was so sickly that he was not expected 
to live. 

Such is the position attained by the Duke and 
Duchess of Maine at the end of 17 14. Such is the 
dignity bestowed upon them by the tenderness of 
an ex-governess and the weakness of an old man. 
The duchess was in the seventh heaven. She 
"triumphed at Sceaux," said Saint-Simon, "and 
plunged into feasts and rejoicings." Her spouse 
was divided between content and terror. He re- 
flected perpetually on what his father had said to 



244 Princesses and Court Ladies 

him in public, in a loud and angry voice, after sign- 
ing his will, "You have your wish, but remember 
that, however great I may make you, after me, you 
are nothing; it behoves you to profit by what I 
have done for you — if you can." Remembering 
these words, Monsieur du Maine trembled. What 
indeed would become of all this grandeur when 
Louis XIV had disappeared? 

Thus, while joy alone possessed the soul of 
Madame du Maine, her husband was agitated 
as much by fear as by hope, and thought less of 
his happiness than of being forgiven for it. 



Ill 

During the summer of 17 14 the health of Louis 
XIV began to decline. The different parties 
which would be rivals at his death had a year 
wherein to plan their tactics. The situation was 
at any rate simple enough. The heir was barely 
out of swaddling clothes, and only two men, the 
Duke of Orleans and the Duke of Maine, could 
aspire to govern in his name. The Duke of 
Orleans was regent by right of birth; he was the 
natural chief of the high nobility, but he was in 
deepest disgrace, and kept in absolute inaction. 
Calumnies were spread abroad, and he was even 
accused of poisoning the princes, his cousins. At 
the funeral of the Duke of Burgundy, the rabble 
tried to massacre him. Monsieur du Maine was 



The Duchess of Maine 245 

neither respected nor liked, except by some old 
courtiers, devoted to his father ; but, in his favour, 
he had the King's testament, the King's favour, 
the King's love. This was much, this was all — 
while the King lived. What would it be after his 
death? Would it still be something? 

Monsieur and Madame du Maine thought it 
would be, and that was a great error, the origin 
of their misfortunes. They knew that, by the 
loss of the King, their position would be greatly 
weakened; they did not foresee that it would 
totter and disappear completely. They fancied 
that it would be possible for them to grasp the 
power, and leave merely its shadow to the Duke 
of Orleans. Their plans were laid in accordance. 
Madame du Maine directed everything from her 
castle at Sceaux where, more than ever, pleasures 
seemed to occupy all her attention. Monsieur du 
Maine executed her orders with his habitual 
dexterity. He scarcely left the King, whose bed- 
chamber singularly resembled, during the last 
months of his life, that of Regnard's Geronte in 
the Legataire Universal. Monsieur du Maine and 
Madame de Maintenon were the Crispin and 
Lisette of the royal puppet. 

The plan of Monsieur and Madame du Maine 
consisted in arousing the passions of all their ene- 
mies, in exciting warfare among them, so that, 
in the noise of this strife, they themselves might 
be forgotten. Monsieur du Maine revived old 
quarrels, and started new ones. The peers were 



246 Princesses and Court Ladies 

at daggers drawn with the Parliament; the re- 
maining nobles with the peers. He, however, 
seemingly detached from all mundane things, 
feigned astonishment and ignorance, was very 
gentle, very humble, and spent much time in the 
churches. He showed himself at high mass, at 
vespers, at complines, at prayers. Nowhere was 
a litany recited, an anthem sung, but Monsieur 
du Maine was among the faithful, with eyes de- 
voutly fixed on the ground, modest and contrite. 
Who could have suspected so pious a man ? 

The little duchess, on her side, did her very 
best. She alarmed her husband by the audacity 
of her conceptions ; irritated and rendered furious 
by his objections, she reproached him with his 
cowardice. Storm succeeded storm. At last, 
Madame du Maine thought it wise to step upon 
the stage. She wished to begin by a master stroke 
and tried to gain the dukes and peers to her 
cause. She spoke to them, failed, flew into a 
passion, cried out that ''she would set fire to the 
centre and to the four corners of the kingdom," 
rather than give up her hope of winning the 
crown ; she went so far that she brought upon her 
husband a scene from Saint -Simon. ' ' Enjoy, ' ' said 
that terrible man, in a voice worthy of an ogre, 
"enjoy your power and all you have obtained. 
But there always comes a time when one repents 
having gone beyond the mark." Poor Monsieur 
du Maine grew pale and remained speechless. 

Among all these intrigues, the spring of 17 15 




iiiii!iliiiii3liliaiSII.!;lSJiili3i;i::li!iSiiiaS 



L.i' ilJMliy'l IIJJ^^^lildLLJ 



MADAME DE MAINTENON 
From the engraving by P. Giffart 



The Duchess of Maine 247 

passed. Louis XIV grew weaker and weaker, and 
his daughter-in-law tormented Monsieur du Maine 
that he might yet obtain still greater favours; 
but, seeing the end near at hand, he showed him- 
self nervous and awkward. He allowed several 
important graces to slip between his fingers. 

On the 23d of August, Louis XIV, already dying, 
sent his beloved son to review the troops in his 
stead, so as to accustom the soldiers "to look 
upon him as on himself." Monsieur du Maine 
appeared in all his glory as the favourite of the 
day and the dictator of the morrow, smiling, 
bowing, prancing, beaming, triumphant, when he 
grew white with anguish at seeing the Duke of 
Orleans at the head of a regiment. In an instant, 
by one of those fine instinctive movements of the 
crowd, which in the twinkling of an eye put 
things in their rightful places. Monsieur du Maine's 
brilliant escort left him and hastened to meet the 
Duke of Orleans. This move was as sudden as it 
was unpremeditated. It was the protestation of 
the public conscience, cured of its absurd sus- 
picions, in favour of right and justice. This, Mon- 
sieur du Maine did not understand. He only 
thought that it was one more mortification that 
had to be swallowed, and he swallowed it. For 
some time back he had deceived himself strangely. 
The poor man, frightened at his shadow, chose 
this moment to be foolhardy. 

On the 25th of August, he obtained a codicil 
from his dying father. On the 26th, Madame du 



248 Princesses and Court Ladies 

Maine interrupted her receptions and went to Ver- 
sailles. It was but time. Louis XIV died on the 
first of September. 

The following day, the 2d, there was a solemn 
assembly of the Parliament for the opening of the 
King's will. Monsieur du Maine, who knew its 
contents and already saw himself the master of 
France, entered with a radiant air. "He was 
bursting with joy," said Saint-Simon. He left 
with a convulsed face, half fainting. The will and 
codicil had been annulled, as by one voice, in favour 
of his rival, and the air was filled with the acclama- 
tions of the same people who, three years before, 
had tried to stone the Duke of Orleans. Half king 
in the morning, Monsieur du Maine in the evening 
was nothing but a schoolmaster; the supervision of 
a five-year-old king's education had been left to 
him. 

Needless to say how he was received by his ten- 
der wife. The duchess, beside herself with anger 
and contempt, determined henceforth to trust no 
one and to act for herself. Soon she showed what 
she was capable of doing. Monsieur du Maine had 
lost the supreme power, but he was still prince of 
the blood, thanks to his father's edicts. The real 
princes of the blood, and many honest people, could 
not swallow this. They considered it as an out- 
rage to religion, to morality, to themselves, that 
the children of a double and public adultery should 
be placed above all, in a sort of apotheosis. This 
called for vengeance, and the attack came from 



The Duchess of Maine 249 

Madame du Maine's own family. Her father, 
Monsieur le Prince, was dead. Her brother was 
dead. It was her nephew, Monsieur le Due, who 
started the warfare and first spoke of abolishing 
the edicts in favour of the recognised bastards. 
On learning of this menace, the little duchess ex- 
claimed proudly, "If they sleep, we shall sleep; if 
they wake, we shall wake." 

They woke. War was declared between the 
legitimate princes and the royal bastards. Law 
suits were instituted; the weapons were memoirs, 
answers, protestations, and requests; Madame du 
Maine took the direction of the affair, and was in- 
defatigable. She left her beloved valley for the 
Tuileries, where the regent had installed little 
Louis XV, and she blossomed out into a sort of 
lawyer. Day and night she pored over briefs, took 
notes out of law books, drew up memoirs, accumu- 
lated papers, wrote, combined, invented. ' ' The im- 
mense volumes piled up on her bed, like mountains, 
under which her little figure almost disappeared, 
made her look like Enceladus crushed beneath 
Mount Etna."' She could have given points to 
Chicaneau; she went even to the Chaldeans for 
precedents. 

All her court had to submit to this legal regime. 
Her attendant poets were transformed into law 
clerks. Farewell to Latin verses! Farewell to 
enigmas and madrigals! Farewell to the Graces 
and to Apollo! Handsome Polignac, amiable 

* Staal, Memoirs. 



250 Princesses and Court Ladies 

Malezieu, worked under the eyes of the duchess to 
prove in the jargon of the court room that she was 
in the right, and that Monsieur du Maine was no 
longer a bastard since such was the King's good 
pleasure. They also learned to reason on law, and 
discuss on questions of competence. During the 
night it was Madame de Staal's turn, and she would 
greatly have preferred going to sleep. Installed 
by her mistress's bedside, she "looked over old 
chronicles, ancient and modern jurists." There 
were female discussions as to the prerogatives of 
Parliaments, and the value of royal testaments, 
until dizziness put an end to the talk. Then a 
maid servant was called in, whose duty it was to 
tell stories until her mistress fell asleep. This 
woman, almost every night, began with the fate 
of the Cockscomb of an Indian Chanticleer, which 
one can read to-day in the Divertissements de Sceaux 
and which, very certainly, is fitted to put any one 
to sleep. 

The riunour of Madame du Maine's labour was 
soon noised about in Paris, and the Tuileries saw a 
singular procession. The duchess was besieged by 
old scholars in spectacles, needy adventurers, and 
equivocal countesses, who came to offer her infalli- 
ble receipts for the winning of her law suit. One 
brought historical examples, borrowed from the 
court of Semiramis. Another promised important 
revelations, on condition of dining first of all. An 
ex-monk tried to sell documents. Women of 
doubtful appearance and fallacious titles asked for 



The Duchess of Maine 251 

mysterious meetings in order to reveal secrets. 
Madame du Maine listened to everything, sent 
everywhere, tried all things. 

On the other hand, she neglected no means of 
increasing her party, and in this she succeeded ; but 
the credit of it went to Monsieur du Maine, that 
misunderstood husband. His wife saw in him 
nothing but a craven and took the credit of every 
triumph. And this was a great error as well as a 
gross injustice. Monsieur du Maine rendered im- 
mense services to the common cause, whereas the 
duchess jeopardised it constantly by her childish- 
ness and her fits of temper. 

Monsieur du Maine, among other arts, had mas- 
tered that of making malcontents and drawing 
them to himself. At this period, during the law 
suit between the princes of the blood and the 
recognised princes, malcontents were wanting 
neither at court, in the city, nor in its environs. 
Many were dissatisfied with the regency, that had 
not been able to put all things in order by a touch of 
the wand. The nobles had imagined that, now 
that they were once more powerful, they could, 
with a frown, force the arrogant bourgeois, grown 
to such importance under Louis XIV, to sink once 
more into nothingness; the *' arrogant bourgeois"' 
fought with a will, and for this the nobles held the 
weak Duke of Orleans responsible. They were 
divided among themselves ; the minor nobles had 
signed a petition against the privileges of the 
dukes. The Parliament complained that it was 



252 Princesses and Court Ladies 

not consulted. The people, exasperated, saw the 
money of the treasury lavished on the courtiers. 
Add to this that the nation was in the midst of 
the law system, that Alberoni was working to 
excite dissensions in France for the benefit of the 
King of Spain, his master, and that Providence 
had just let loose upon the world the young Vol- 
taire, who had already found the time to get him- 
self exiled for verses "most satirical and very im- 
pudent," and to be put in the Bastille for other 
verses "most insolent." 

Such a ferment of discord was most useful to 
the Duke of Maine. He outdid himself. He 
cleverly swam between two waters, kept himself 
out of the way, was caressing and insidious, and 
secured many partisans in Paris, in the provinces, 
in the Parliament, among members of the old court, 
the small and lesser nobles, among the magistrates 
and men of letters. Barbier writes in his Memoirs, 
"Monsieur du Maine is a very wise prince, and 
much esteemed." Saint -Simon asserts with sor- 
row that "all smiled on his plans." 

In spite of caresses and intrigues, nothing could 
counterbalance the hatred of Monsieur le Due for 
his aunt, Madame du Maine. It is well known 
that Monsieur le Due was a veritable brute, a hid- 
eous one-eyed, ferocious being. He led the suit 
against the bastard princes with his usual vio- 
lence, and obtained from the council of the re- 
gency, July, 17 17, a decree which took from them 
all right to the royal successions and also the quality 



The Duchess of Maine ^53 

of princes of the blood. When, nowadays, we 
read the papers relating to this great suit, we are 
struck by the novelty of the language employed 
by both parties, just after the death of Louis XIV, 
in speaking of the sovereign power.* Royal au- 
thority is here represented as a trust and a man- 
date. There is no more talk of divine right or 
inviolability. The right of a nation to dispose of 
itself is recognised, and the monarchy is now no 
more than a simple civil contract, revocable by 
the will of the contracting parties. What a revo- 
lution in the space of two years! 

The decree of 17 17 was the prologue of the 
drama which precipitated Monsieur and Madame 
du Maine in the abyss. Seeing them vanquished 
their enemies grew bold. The duchess, incapable 
of bowing before the storm, imprudently burst 
into imprecations and menaces. Her violence 
was the pretext for the second thunderbolt, that 
of the bed of justice, August the 26th, 17 18. 

In order to judge of the little duchess's feelings 
at this second catastrophe, it must be remembered 
that the bed of justice of the 26th of August was 
a surprise to all. Nobody in Paris knew anything 
about it. Madame du Maine had gone to sup 
and to spend the night at the Arsenal, where 
she gave herself an entertainment. Monsieur du 
Maine had accompanied her and had returned 
only a little before daybreak, to his apartment in 
the Tuileries, situated on the ground floor. He 

' See Lemontey, Histoire de la Regence. 



254 Princesses and Court Ladies 

had just fallen asleep when the upholsterers in- 
vaded the throne room, where the ceremony was 
to take place. It was just above him, but he 
heard nothing. An officer woke him, saying that 
some great event was preparing. Monsieur du 
Maine dressed hastily and went to the little King's 
room, where soon after the Duke of Orleans 
arrived. It was about eight o'clock. 

"I know," said the regent graciously to Mon- 
sieur du Maine, "that since the last edict, you 
prefer not to take part in public ceremonies. 
There is to be a bed of justice; you can absent 
yourself from it, if you choose. " ' ' When the King 
is present, I suffer no annoyance," replied the 
Duke. "At any rate, at your bed of justice, it is 
not likely that I shall be mentioned." 

" — Perhaps," said the regent, and he left the 
room.^ 

Monsieur du Maine, much upset, went out seek- 
ing for news. His unfortunate timidity gave him 
a wild look, and the countenance of a criminaL 
He learned that the education of the King was to 
be taken from him and that the legitimatised 
princes were to be reduced to their simple rank 
of peers. In a state of great anguish he went to 
his wife's apartments; she had been sent for at 
the Arsenal, and her state of mind was indescrib- 
able. She could not understand that Monsieur 
du Maine should let himself be driven out without 
resisting. She implored him, she reviled him, she 

^ Manuscript Memoirs of the Duke d'Antin. 



The Duchess of Maine 255 

had nervous spasms. By her orders, young 
lackeys clambered up the walls, as high as the 
windows of the throne room. Hanging by their 
hands, they peered through the window panes, 
reporting to the ground floor what was then tak- 
ing place. Madame du Maine trusted that some 
one would take her husband's part, that there 
might be some incident. She screamed and cried 
when it became evident that the bed of justice had 
taken place quietly and that she must immediately 
leave the palace. Two strokes of a pen had suf- 
ficed to take from the dearly loved son of the most 
absolute of monarchs all the favours heaped upon 
his head during forty years, favours strengthened 
by all the prudence, all the forethought, all the 
zeal that the most tender affection could inspire. 

Madame du Maine had to be carried from the 
Tuileries in the most pitiable condition. "She 
was," said Madame de Staal, "so overcome that 
she seemed almost deprived of life; she was in a 
sort of lethargy from which convulsive movements 
alone could shake her." Two days later, she was 
taken to Sceaux. Sorrow had well-nigh bereft 
her of reason. Now, motionless and dumb, her 
eyes staring, she seemed the very statue of grief. 
At other times, "yelling with rage" and causing 
all about her to tremble, she showered on her 
husband the most outrageous reproaches, throwing 
at him his birth, his cowardice, their marriage. 
The poor man "all day long, wept like a calf." ^ 

^ Saint-Simon. 



256 Princesses and Court Ladies 

Madame du Maine ought to have acknowledged 
her defeat, given up pubhc affairs, and, once 
more, taken to card -board crowns. Such was her 
husband's opinion. But she was obstinate; she 
was hke those brave Httle terriers that let them- 
selves be killed rather than give up their prey. 
For some time past, she had been intriguing with 
Alberoni through Cellamare, Spanish ambassador 
to Paris. After the catastrophe of August 26th, 
she became really a conspirator. 

Into this new part she carried too many sou- 
v^enirs of the numerous romances she had read. 
She devised an am.using plot in which such ex- 
traordinary things were done, that the police at 
once were on the scent. Her headquarters were 
in a house in rue St. Honore, hired on purpose. 
From it, she would go in the middle of the night, 
driven by a nobleman disguised as coachman, to 
odd places where she met other conspirators. She 
would send Madame de Staal at midnight to pre- 
side over a council held under the Pont Royal. 
She disguised two of her lackeys as Flemish 
lords, and these rivals of Mascarille were presented 
in society under the names of Prince of Listenai 
and Chevalier de la Roche. As at the time of 
her law suit, she received crowds of adventurers, 
of intriguers, and imbeciles who brought plans and 
offered advice. She kept up a most useless cor- 
respondence in invisible ink, and had all sorts of 
partisans more or less trustworthy, two of whom, 
at least, were spies in the service of Abbe Dubois. 




LOUIS XV. 
After the painting by Hyacinthe Rigaud 



The Duchess of Maine 257 

She forced Polignac and Malezieu, who refused as 
long as they dared, to conspire with her. She 
joked gaily as to the time she might spend in 
prison. Especially she forbade any one to speak 
of these matters to her very timid spouse. When 
he appeared, conversation stopped. 

It is not our purpose to relate the Cellamare 
plot, of which Madame du Maine's little intrigue 
was but an episode. All that is necessary to recall 
is that Alberoni wished to secure the throne of 
France for his master, Philip V, in case little 
Louis XV should die. Alberoni, especially, wished 
to push aside the Duke of Orleans, who also had 
claims to the crown, and he had given orders to 
Cellamare to make friends with all malcontents, 
so as to overthrow the regent; afterwards, it 
would be time to see who should take his place. 
A Spanish army was to land in Brittany to 
support the conspirators. 

Naturally, when she offered her aid, the Duch- 
ess of Maine was received with open arms. Cella- 
mare showered praises on her, promised very fine 
things in the name of his King, and made use of 
her zeal. Under her high direction two commit- 
tees of conspirators were placed. One was com- 
posed of a certain Abbe Brigault and two lords, 
the Count of Laval and the Marquess of Pompa- 
dour. The other comprised the duchess herself, 
de Malezieu and de Polignac. These six persons 
divided the work among themselves and covered 
many sheets of paper with their writing. These 



258 Princesses and Court Ladies 

compositions were submitted to the judgment of 
all, and each committee despised the productions 
of the other one. The lords found the "work" 
of the poets very pale and flat. The poets looked 
upon the lordly scribbling as meaningless twaddle. 
Thus were drawn up a manifesto from the King 
of Spain to France, a petition from the French 
to the King of Spain, and various other docu- 
ments, several of which were duly sent to Madrid. 
When Alberoni received the petition of the French 
to the King of Spain, he wrote to ask by whom it 
was to be signed; but he received no answer. 
These conspirators did not wish to give their 
names, the lords no more than the poets. In 
very truth, Madame du Maine's intrigue was but 
a continuation of the little games of Sceaux. 

Meanwhile, Alberoni urged Cellamare to act. 
He, who had prepared nothing serious, tried to 
gain time. He learned that a young abbe, named 
Porto Carrero, was to leave Paris for Madrid; to 
him he confided a mass of documents, rough 
sketches for manifestoes, letters, petitions, and 
other fancies, composed by Madame du Maine, 
Polignac, Pompadour, Abbe Brigault, Malezieu, 
and others. Cellamare added a letter for Alberoni 
with a list of French officers who, according to 
him, desired to serve Spain. Abb^ Dubois, who 
had his eyes open, judged that the moment had 
come to get rid of all these clumsy conspirators. 
Porto Carrero was followed and stopped at Poitiers. 
His papers were delivered to the regent. Decern- 



The Duchess of Maine 259 

ber 8, 17 18, without awakening any suspicion in 
Paris. The following day, the gth, in the after- 
noon, a gentleman entered Madame de Staal's 
apartments in the house of rue St. Honore, say- 
ing: "Here is a great piece of news. The palace 
of the Spanish ambassador is surrounded, and 
troops have entered it. No one, as yet, knows 
what it is all about." At the same moment, 
Madame du Maine, whose drawing-room was full, 
was told of this event. "All who entered related 
the news, added some new circumstance, and 
spoke of nothing else. She did not dare to free 
herself from her unfortunate visitors, for fear they 
might notice her terror." Soon it was known 
that Porto Carrero had been arrested and his 
papers seized. This time, Madame du Maine and 
her accomplices "saw themselves plunged in the 
abyss." The duchess comforted herself with the 
thought that Abbe Brigault, to whom many 
papers had been intrusted, had taken flight. 

On the tenth more arrests were made. Mon- 
sieur de Pompadour was sent to the Bastille. But 
the abb^ was safe, and Madame du Maine began 
to breathe more easily. 

On the twelfth, while she was having a game of 
Biribi, a certain Monsieur de Chatillon, who was 
the banker, "a man of cold manners, who rarely 
spoke," said all of a sudden: "Really, there has 
been an amusing event to-day. An abbe, Bri — 
Bri — " (he could not find the name) "has been 
arrested and sent to the Bastille ..." Those 



i6o Princesses and Court Ladies 

who knew the name had no wish to help his mem- 
ory. At last, he continued: "The funniest part 
of all is that he has confessed everything; there 
will be some people in a pretty pickle." Then he 
burst out laughing for the first time in his life. 

Madame du Maine, who had no wish to laugh, 
said: "Yes — a funny story. . . ." "Oh! It is 
enough to make one die of laughing," he went on. 
"Just fancy! all those people thought themselves 
so very safe ; and the fellow answers every question, 
and names every one." ^ 

It was true. Abbe Brigault was indeed a con- 
spirator for fine ladies. He had travelled without 
haste, enjoying the journey, still more, the good 
inns. He had taken over a day to cross Paris on 
horseback and had slept the first night ' ' at the inn 
of the Great Saint Jacques in the Faubourg Saint 
Jacques."^ After three days, he was only at 
Nemours, twenty leagues from Paris. Those sent 
in search found him easily and brought him back 
to the Bastille much more quickly than he had 
gone out. Before he had crossed the threshold, 
he had divulged everything. Others after him 
also gave evidence, and the number of the arrests 
multiplied. From several sources Madame du 
Maine heard that it would soon be her turn. No 
one slept in her house ; the nights were spent quite 
gaily, waiting for the musketeers. Monsieur du 
Maine kept very quiet at Sceaux. 

^ Memoirs of Madame de Staal. 

* First declaration of Abbe Brigault. 



The Duchess of Maine 261 

In spite of watching and putting oneself on the 
defensive, the musketeers arrived when they were 
least expected. Monsieur and Madame du Maine 
were arrested, one at Sceaux, the other in the rue 
St. Honore. Their conduct, at this critical junc- 
ture, was as different as were their two natures, 
which then stood fully revealed. 

Monsieur du Maine was leaving the chapel when 
he was most respectfully requested by a lieutenant 
of the bodyguards to enter a waiting coach. He 
obeyed, "death painted on his face," but with a 
submission, a humility, a sort of eagerness, well 
fitted to excite compassion. He did not allow 
himself to complain, or to ask anything, even with 
regard to his wife and children, but he sighed 
deeply and clasped his hands. He was the living 
image of misunderstood and persecuted innocence. 

He was taken to the Fortress of Doullens, in 
Picardy, and his attitude remained the same dur- 
ing the whole journey. He sighed and sighed 
again, gently moaned, wrung his hands, murmured 
prayers, accompanied by many signs of the cross, 
saluted with a "dip" all the churches and crosses 
on the road, and kept that silence which befits 
the oppressed. At Doullens, his behaviour did 
not change. He was eternally praying, kneeling, 
prostrating himself. No one was touched ; his con- 
temporaries, rightfully or wrongfully, did not take 
Monsieur du Maine's piety very seriously, but it 
helped to pass the time which hung heavily on his 
hands. He had a few books, but neither paper nor 



262 Princesses and Court Ladies 

pens; when he wished for these, he was forced to 
apply to the ofificer who mounted guard over him 
and to show him all he wrote. His only relaxation 
was to play cards with his valets. 

When he was questioned he burst into protesta- 
tions of innocence and ignorance. What was it 
all about? What harm had he done? He was 
profoundly attached to the Duke of Orleans, who 
some day would acknowledge it, and yet the Duke 
of Orleans believed the atrocious calumnies of his 
foes! In very truth, he was most unfortunate! 

Facts were shown him, the confessions of the 
duchess communicated to him. Then he grew 
angry. This man, gentle thus far, exclaimed in 
horror and indignation at having such a wife, a 
woman capable of conspiracy and bold enough to 
implicate him — him, to whom nothing had ever 
been confided, for he knew nothing, had guessed 
nothing; all had been hidden from him, because it 
was well known that he would never have tolerated 
such doings. He had often enough forbidden the 
duchess to see the * ' cabal makers. " If he had had 
wind of anything he would at once have revealed 
it to the Duke of Orleans. What was certain was 
that, when he recovered his liberty, he would never 
again see Madame du Maine, Let no one dare to 
speak to him of her. He conspire against the Duke 
of Orleans! . . . What an abominable calumny! 

He never could be driven from this position. 
He remained mournful and impenetrable. The 
truth of the matter has never really been sifted. 




PHILIPPE DUC D'ORLEANS 
From an old copper print 



The Duchess of Maine 262 

It is impossible to tell what Monsieur du Maine 
knew or what he did not know. It seems certain 
that he never took an active part in the plot; on 
the other hand, it is difficult to admit that a 
man as wide awake as he had never guessed, in 
his own home, a secret so carelessly hidden. 
However that may be, it must be admitted in his 
favour, that he never uttered a word that could 
in the least compromise others. Monsieur du 
Maine had all the more merit in this that he was 
horribly frightened. At the least disturbance in 
the citadel, his face would become livid; he 
already saw himself on the scaffold. 

Madame du Maine's arrest made more noise. 
Her high birth gave her the right to be appre- 
hended by a duke. Monsieur d'Ancenis, who pre- 
sented himself at rue St. Honore at seven o'clock 
in the morning before daylight. The duchess had 
just fallen asleep, after having spent the night 
writing a memoir in her own defence. She and 
her women had to be routed out of bed. No man 
ever had so disagreeable a duty to perform. The 
little duchess, unlike her husband, did not belong 
to the tribe of lambs. She received Monsieur 
d'Ancenis and his compliments very sourly, flew 
out violently as to the indignity of thus treating 
a person of her rank, railed against the Duke of 
Orleans and his government, and refused to make 
the least haste. She was trying to gain time, 
trusting that her family would come to her aid, 
and she resisted, discussed, scolded, chattered, 



264 Princesses and Court Ladies 

claiming first one thing, then another. There was 
a long scene, violent on her side, about a casket 
containing jewels, worth a million, and which she 
insisted on taking with her. The Duke of An- 
cenis, who had his orders, energetically opposed 
this. She appeared to yield, and the casket was 
discovered two days later in her luggage. 

All this lasted four hours, — four hours of resist- 
ance and of outcries. Finally Monsieur d'An- 
cenis took her by the hand, declaring that he had 
had enough of it alh He led her to the door, 
when she had another fit of rage in perceiving 
two simple hackney coaches. He pretended to 
force her into such a vehicle! And she was a 
Cond^! Yet, she had to enter the vile coach. 
During the drive, the comedy changed to tragedy. 
She took on the airs of a great queen, persecuted 
and indignant. The duke had confided her to a 
lieutenant named La Billarderie. Madame du 
Maine, calling to her aid her theatrical reminis- 
cences, overwhelmed La Billarderie with tirades 
on her misfortunes, on the hard cushions of the 
carriage, on the barbarity of her enemies. She 
mingled very energetic and familiar epithets with 
the most literary apostrophes, changing the tone 
of imprecations for that of suppressed sorrow; 
she pretended illness, appealed to La Billarderie's 
good heart to drive less rapidly, to rest longer, to 
obtain a better carriage. 

La Billarderie was no monster. He was not, 
on the other hand, a high personage, and the sup- 



The Duchess of Maine 265 

plications of a princess moved him greatly. He 
was full of attentions toward his prisoner, and 
endeavoured to procure for her all the comforts 
he could command. He could not, however, es- 
cape a scene when, on the third day, he was forced 
to tell her that she was being taken to the Fortress 
of Dijon. The duchess was crushed by the blow. 
It had never occurred to her that she was to be 
put in a real prison. She fancied that she would 
be given a beautiful "royal castle," where she 
would be surrounded by a court and play at the 
captive as she had played at being a conspirator. 
The idea of being shut in between four walls, with 
her women, revolted her; it was sheer treason! 
The idea of falling into the power of her hated 
nephew, Monsieur le Due, convulsed her with fury. 
She exclaimed, addressing herself to La Billar- 
derie : 

" Aux fureurs de Junon Jupiter m'abandonne! " 

then, in prose, she stormed against her detested 
nephew, and poured out against him a thousand 
amusing invectives — even in her anger she was 
witty; this completed the conquest of La Billar- 
derie and brought him to her feet. He did his 
best to console her. He ordered frequent halts, 
and lingered where she chose. The coach was 
changed. Yet, in spite of all, Dijon was at. last 
reached, and Madame du Maine with two maids 
was incarcerated in the citadel. 

Later, she liked to say that she had been sub- 



266 Princesses and Court Ladies 

jected to all "the horrors of captivity." The re- 
gent, however, who was good-natured, softened 
those horrors. He allowed her to have a lady in 
waiting, a companion, a doctor, a chaplain, five 
maids, to go from Dijon to Chalons and from Cha- 
lons to a country house, to communicate with the 
outer world, and, before long, to receive visits. In 
spite of all this, Madame du Maine sank into deep 
despair. All her courage left her, and she thought 
herself the most unfortunate of women. In vain 
those about her tried to entertain her. She some- 
times allowed herself to be persuaded and would 
even play cards, but with the air of a martyr, say- 
ing, in a sad and dolorous voice : ' ' Let the Duke of 
Orleans judge of my sorrows by my pleasures." 
She had lost all her insolence; all her pride even. 
The little duchess, grown affrighted, wept copi- 
ously, begged and supplicated. The commander 
of the Chalons citadel, a ' ' gentle and compassionate 
soul," wrote, June 30, 17 19, to Monsieur le Blanc, 
secretary of state: 

"... Then Madame du Maine, falling into a 
sort of despair and weeping bitterly, swore in the 
strongest and most sacred terms that she was inno- 
cent, saying that evidently she was doomed to die 
here ; that her enemies were waiting for her death 
in order to accuse her with impunity, but that at 
her last hour she would instruct her confessor to 
proclaim to the whole of France that she died 
innocent of all the charges brought against her, 
that she would swear to all this on the Host as she 



The Duchess of Maine 267 

received it, and that several times she had already 
thought of doing this. I endeavoured to calm 
her. ..." 

The heroine had disappeared, leaving in her place 
an old child, in fear of a whipping, and crying be- 
cause its playthings had been taken away. If 
our own weaknesses could only make us less severe 
for those of others, Madame du Maine would have 
accumulated a full store of indulgence for her timid 
husband, during the five months of Dijon and the 
three at Chalons. 

Her abbes and court poets whom she had en- 
rolled, much against their will, among her accom- 
plices, did not on their side cut a better figure. 
The Cardinal of Polignac had been exiled in his 
abbey of Anchin in Flanders, where his handsome 
face and his graces were quite lost, and he was con- 
sumed with sorrow and fear. He was even more 
terrified than the Duke of Maine, and he deplored 
the loss of his Anti Lucrece, seized with the docu- 
ments of the plot. Abbe Dubois sent him back 
his manuscript, saw that he had plenty of money, 
and allowed him to receive what visits he chose. 
These delicate attentions did not reassure the car- 
dinal, who could not get over his fright. He was 
furiously angry with the Duchess of Maine for hav- 
ing used her authority to bring him to this pretty 
pass. 

Abb^ Brigault continued to reveal all he knew; 
more still. He betrayed even the valets under 
pretext that the salvation of his soul required him 



268 Princesses and Court Ladies 

to tell the whole truth. Tartuffe would not have 
disclaimed the letter which he wrote to the wife of 
one of the conspirators whom he had denoimced : 

' ' Madam : It is with the liveliest sorrow that I 
write to-day in order to warn you that I have de- 
termined to reveal to His Royal Highness all that 
has come to my knowledge. God is my witness 
that, had I with my life's blood been able to save 
Monsieur de Pompadour I would have shed it will- 
ingly. But, Madam, you know the claims of re- 
ligion. . . . Convicted of having been the soul of 
this unfortunate intrigue, I could only hope to 
obtain the absolution of my sins by rendering a 
faithful account of the truth. I was forced either 
to die in despair or to make the revelations re- 
quired of me. I remembered the advice which 
you yourself gave me, and I do not think I could 
make a mistake in following the mandates of re- 
ligion." 

The holy man! 

Monsieur de Pompadour, a great swaggerer in 
words, cut a rather mean figure in danger. He 
made what he was pleased to call an "ingenuous 
confession." We have the document under our 
eyes. Monsieur de Pompadour denounces every- 
body, and deplores most piteously the bad state 
of his fortune. 

Malezieu had been arrested at Sceaux, at the 
same time as the Duke of Maine. After an hon- 
ourable resistance he, like the others, ended by 
telling everything. One person alone remained 



The Duchess of Maine ^6g 

as firm as a rock : Madame de Staal. She was brave 
and she was quite happy in the Bastille. She had 
two admirers there; she had never had so much 
liberty, and she was in no hurry to leave. 

The regent wanted to wind up the affair, but he 
wished to do so with honour and so that no one 
should accuse him of persecuting the innocent. 
He promised free pardon to all who would confess 
their wrongs. Madame du Maine was forced to 
drink the chalice and make a public confession. 
Her Declaration is very amusing. Her great fear 
is lest she might be made responsible for the abom- 
inable style used by the committee of lords. She 
trembles that her reputation of superior mind shall 
be compromised, and she insists upon the sorrow 
which the twaddle of Monsieur de Pompadour and 
the "sheer gibberish" of Monsieur de Laval had 
caused her. On several occasions she protests that 
she never in the slightest degree ' ' corrected ' ' these 
writings. Having thus at once cleared the most 
important point and saved her literary honour, 
Madame du Maine deigns to remember her hus- 
band : ' ' He never knew anything of these intrigues. 
I hid them from him more than from any other 
living being, . . . and when Monsieur du Maine 
entered my room, while I was speaking to my con- 
fidants on these matters, we immediately changed 
the conversation." Unfortunately for Monsieur 
du Maine, she added while speaking of him, that 
she would never have said a word to so timid a 
man, for he would have been capable, in his fright, 



270 Princesses and Court Ladies 

of denouncing all. These words were repeated; 
the Declaration of Madame du Maine was read in 
the council of regency; and the Duke of Orleans 
considered that he was sufficiently avenged on 
both husband and wife. The doors of the prisons 
were opened. Poets and nobles, abbes and valets, 
each returned to his avocations. 

Monsieur de Pompadour, with his pardon, re- 
ceived an alms of 40,000 francs which he pocketed. 

Madame du Maine returned to Sceaux (January, 
1720) with a great explosion of joy. She soon 
obtained leave to go to Paris and to make her 
courtesy to her enemy, the regent. She threw 
her arms about his neck and kissed him on both 
cheeks. 

Monsieur du Maine took advantage of the cir- 
cumstances to get rid of his wife. He could not 
forgive her for the terrors he had endured in prison 
and he feared her reckless extravagance. He re- 
tired to Clagny, refused to see the duchess, and 
declared that henceforth she must content herself 
with a pension. She did so well that, six months 
later, she brought him back to Sceaux, when he 
took on his yoke once more and endeavoured to 
put some sort of order in the accounts. 

The Cardinal of Polignac did not forgive Ma- 
dame du Maine. He was much laughed at by the 
public for his terror of her. The duchess had sent 
him a copy of her Declaration. He feared to throw 
a glance on that paper, and gave it to a trustworthy 
man who assured him that he could " read it with- 



The Duchess of Maine 271 

out danger." He sulked and avoided Sceaux to 
the end. 

The best pleased of all was an old marquess, 
Monsieur de Bonrepos, who had been forgotten in 
the Bastille. He was very poor, and was delighted 
to have board and lodging for nothing. After five 
years, a lieutenant of police discovered him and 
wanted to set him free. He protested. At last it 
was decided that he should be sent to the Invalides. 
He went, grumbling. He greatly disliked this 
change in his habits. 

Madame de Staal also was set free, and thus 
ended this terrible conspiracy. For the other 
intrigues of Alberoni which brought on war be- 
tween France and Spain, historians should be 
consulted. 

IV 

All these ugly stories of law suits, of plots, and 
prisons, are so out of keeping with the ribbons 
and rattles of this princess Hop o' My Thumb, that 
it is difficult to take them seriously. They make 
one think of the tragic interludes introduced by 
Moli^re in his Psyche. The first of these might 
well represent the road to Dijon, where the poor 
little duchess was to be left at the tender mercies 
of her wicked one-eyed nephew. "The stage is 
encumbered with horrible rocks, and in the dis- 
tance is seen a frightful desert. In this desert, 
Psyche is to be exposed so that the oracle may be 
fulfilled. . . . Sorrowful women, afflicted men, 



272 Princesses and Court Ladies 

singing and dancing. ..." How well this ballet of 
" sorrowing women " and " afflicted men " represents 
the court of Sceaux in time of trouble! Another 
interlude, that of Hades, reminds one of the 
"frightful" citadel of Chalons, when Madame du 
Maine thought to die and wept so copiously. At 
the most tragic moment "sprites performing acro- 
batic feats mingle with the furies." These sprites 
never failed to show themselves in the midst of 
the most dramatic scenes of the little duchess's 
life. By their capers they somewhat marred the 
gravity of the scene. 

At last, the nightmare being over, the culprits 
breathed once more. The lugubrious visions that 
had haunted their sleep vanished; they no longer 
fancied that they heard the scaffold being raised, 
or listened for the steps of the executioners. 
Their eyes rested with delight on the smiling sky 
of Sceaux, their souls opened voluptuously to the 
joys of court verses and innocent games. The 
lovely valley greeted the return of its sovereign. 
Smiling Graces peopled once more the bowers, 
not in crowds or giddily, but little by little, hesi- 
tatingly, like prudent divinities, feeling their way, 
anxious to offend no one. Faithful Malezieu threw 
in the air his joyous songs. He improvised the fol- 
lowing verses on the day of his mistress's return: 

Oui, oui, j'oublie et ma captivite, 
Et mes soucis, mes ans et ma colique 
Songer convient k soulas et gaiete, 
Ouand je revois votre face angelique. 



The Duchess of Maine 273 

All things fell back into the accustomed order, 
and Madame du Maine found herself exactly the 
same as before her departure for Versailles, when 
Louis XIV was dying ; only she was five years older. 

No one was ever more incorrigible. After this 
severe lesson, and in spite of her real intelligence, 
she had not lost one jot of her pride, nor given 
up a single childish habit, nor learnt anything 
about the real world, nor unlearnt a word or a 
gesture of her character of a painted, powdered, 
be-ribboned shepherdess. She w^as one of those 
persons whose stock of ideas is all made in ad- 
vance, and who refuse to accept self-evident 
facts, when these are unpleasant. It was said of 
Madame du Maine "that she never left home; she 
had never even looked out of the window." The 
only trace left in her mind by the bed of justice 
and all that followed was a wholesome fear of the 
police. She was forever cured of politics. We 
possess a list of her entertainments during a 
whole year. No one could find any fault with it. 

This list forms a little manuscript volume en- 
titled, Almanack de VAnnee 17 12,* and divided 
into months. It contains certain passages not to 
be quoted here; the old-time aristocracy did not 
object to dedicating its jokes to Monsieur Purgon ; 
but what can be culled from the Almanac cer- 
tainly offered no danger to the state. 

January began by a quatrain where Madame 
du Maine is personified by Venus. Venus was 

^ See the Com^die a la cour by Adolphe Jullien. 



274 Princesses and Court Ladies 

forty -five years of age; that is a mere detail, since 
goddesses never grow old. 

Venus, par son aspect attirant nos hommages, 
Tient sa cour a Situle et deserte Paphos. 
On quittera du Loing les tranquilles rivages 
Pour visiter les mers du Lakanostrophos. 

This is somewhat pedantic. It is well to warn 
the reader that the fine name of Lakanostrophos 
designates a brook that crossed the park of Sceaux. 

In May, one reads : 

"Full moon, the nth, at 6 hours and 29 min- 
utes of the evening. Frequent games of ninepins 
in the Chestnut tree enclosure. 

"Last quarter, the i8th, at 9 hours and 24 min- 
utes in the morning. Donkey cavalcade in the 
forest of Verrieres. 

"New moon, the 26th, at 5 hours and 8 min- 
utes in the morning. Grand feast in the Small 
Apartment." 

The pleasures of July are more intellectual : 

"Full moon, the 9th, at 8 hours and 47 minutes 
in the morning. Explanations of Homer, of 
Sophocles, of Euripides, of Terence, of Virgil, etc., 
improvised by Master Nicholas." 

Nicholas was Mal^zieu's nickname. 

"Last quarter, the i6th, at 5 hours and 52 
minutes in the morning. 

" Great discussion on the immortality of the 
Soul and on Descartes' sentiment with regard to 
the souls of animals." 




RENE DESCARTES 
From an engraving by J, Chapman 



The Duchess of Maine 275 

It is to be noticed that the word "soul" is written 
with a capital S when men are in question, and 
that a small one is deemed sufficient for the souls 
of animals. This inequality marks the official 
philosophy of the court at Sceaux. To her last 
breath Madame du Maine remained a faithful 
disciple of Descartes. 

The year 172 1 was thus profitably spent from 
beginning to end, and those which followed were 
equally well filled. Each season there was some 
new gallant invention. Madame du Maine sur- 
rounded herself with shepherds, whose duty it 
was to celebrate her charms after a bucolic fash- 
ion; there was a "head shepherd," Monsieur de 
Saint Aulaire, celebrated for his little verses. 
Monsieur de Saint Aulaire was then nearly ninety 
years of age, and Sainte-Beuve maliciously re- 
marks that "it made Madame du Maine seem 
much younger to have chosen so old a shepherd; 
by his side, she was a mere child." The old 
gentleman acquitted himself most wittily of his 
delicate function of chief flatterer. It was for 
Madame du Maine that he improvised his cele- 
brated quatrain at a ball where she pressed him 
to unmask: 

La divinity qui s'amuse 

A me demander mon secret, 

Si j'etais ApoUon ne serait pas ma Muse; 

EUe serait Thetis et le jour finirait. 

She had an avowed lover, La Motte, author of 
Ines de Castro, with whom she played the ingenue. 



276 Princesses and Court Ladies 

She wrote letters to him, intended to delight 
Paris drawing-rooms, and he answered that he 
had "worn out" her signature by dint of kissing 
it. La Motte was blind and crippled. He was 
but the better suited for his part of lover ; he was 
less compromising than the handsome Polignac, 
cardinal though he was. 

The duchess hid Voltaire, at a time when he 
had quarrelled with the powers (1746). He was 
shut up in a distant room, the blinds of which 
were closed. He lived there two months. Dur- 
ing the day he wrote, by the light of candles, 
Zadig and other tales. At nightfall, he myste- 
riously slipped into the duchess's apartments and 
read her what he had written. Those were red- 
letter nights. 

She gave numberless comedies, tragedies, 
operas, farces, and ballets. Voltaire furnished her 
with many plays, and as at that time whoever 
received Voltaire received Madame du Chatelet, 
the learned translator of Newton often took the 
part of the heroine in those plays. Madame de 
Staal gaily relates in her letters to Madame du 
Deffand the visit of this celebrated but some- 
what embarrassing couple during the summer of 
1747. The duchess was then at the castle of 
Anet which had fallen to her by inheritance and 
where, toward the end of her life, she often so- 
journed. 

"(August 15, 1747) Madame du Chatelet and 
Voltaire, who had announced their arrival for 




MARCHIONESS DU CHATELET 
From an old copper print 



The Duchess of Maine 277 

to-day, and whose whereabouts nobody knew, ar- 
rived yesterday, at about midnight, Hke two 
ghosts, with an odour of embalmed bodies which 
they seemed to have brought from their graves. 
We had just left the supper table. They were, at 
all events, famished ghosts. Supper had to be pre- 
pared for them, and, besides, beds had to be im- 
provised. The Concierge, fast asleep, had to be 
routed out. Gaya, who had offered his lodgings 
in case of need, was forced to give them up, and 
moved with as much haste and displeasure as an 
army taken by surprise, leaving a part of his 
baggage in the hands of the enemy. Voltaire 
was well pleased with his quarters, but this by no 
means consoled Gaya. As to the lady, she found 
her bed ill -made; she had to be moved elsewhere 
to-day. Be it known that she had made that bed 
herself, for lack of servants." 

This letter will rather upset the preconceived 
ideas of more than one reader. It is not generally 
known that, when on a visit to princes, one was 
exposed to the necessity of making one's own 
bed. 

The following day, Madame de Staal added this 
postscript : 

"Our ghosts do not put in an appearance during 
the day ; yesterday they showed themselves at ten 
o'clock in the evening. I doubt whether we shall 
see more of them to-day, one of them is so occu- 
pied in setting down heroic deeds, and the other 
in explaining Newton. They neither play nor 



278 Princesses and Court Ladies 

drive out, in society they are of no value; their 
learned writings are of small help to us." 

Madame de Staal slandered the ' * ghosts. ' ' They 
were of some value to society after all, for they were 
zealously rehearsing Voltaire's Comte de Boursoufle 
for the delectation of their hostess. On the 20th, 
a new letter was written to Madame du Deffand : 

"Yesterday, Madame du Chaletet took posses- 
sion of her third apartment. She could not stand 
the one that had been given her ; it was noisy, there 
was smoke without fire (this, it seems to me, might 
pass for her emblem). It is not at night, she told 
me, that the noise disturbs her; but in the daytime 
during her work, it puts her ideas to flight. Just 
now she is reviewing her principles; this is a yearly 
exercise with her; otherwise, they might escape 
her, and perhaps fly away so far that she would be 
left without a single one. I shrewdly suspect that 
her head is their prison, and not at all their birth- 
place. They have to be severely watched. She 
prefers the attitude which this occupation bestows 
on her to any amusement, and insists on showing 
herself only after nightfall. Voltaire has com- 
posed gallant verses which make up somewhat for 
the bad effect produced by their peculiar conduct." 

The Comte de Boursoufle was acted on the 25th 
of August. Madame du Chatelet took the part of 
Mademoiselle de la Cochonniere. Physically she 
was not suited to it. Mademoiselle de la Cochon- 
niere should be "short and stout." Madame du 
Chatelet was a tall, thin woman, flat-breasted, and 



The Duchess of Maine 279 

with a long, bony face. She achieved, however, 
a very brilhant success. Madame de Staal herself 
confesses as much : "Mademoiselle de la Cochonniere 
entered so admirably into the extravagance of the 
part that she gave me a great deal of pleasure. ' ' 

The ghosts left the day after the representation, 
and Madame du Deffand was invited to fill their 
place. Her friend writes to her on that occasion : 

"(August 30th). A good apartment is reserved 
for you ; it is the one of which Madame du Chatelet, 
after a careful study of the house, took possession. 
There will be fewer pieces of furniture than she put 
in it ; for she had devastated her former lodgings to 
furnish this one. Six or seven tables were discov- 
ered in her room; she requires them of different 
sizes, some immense, on which to spread her papers, 
others solid for her toilet articles, light ones for her 
ribbons and her jewels. All this care did not pre- 
serve her from the same accident which happened 
to Philip II, who had spent the whole night writ- 
ing despatches, and then had them ruined by the 
upsetting of a bottle of ink. Our fine lady did not 
imitate the patience of that prince; but it is true 
that he had only busied himself with state affairs, 
while what the ink effaced in her case was algebra, 
much more difficult to reconstruct. 

"The day following their departure, I received 
a four-page letter and with it a note, announcing 
a great disaster. Monsieur de Voltaire had lost 
his play, forgotten to claim the different parts, 
and mislaid the prologue. I am ordered to gather 



28o Princesses and Court Ladies 

all this together, and to shut it up behind a hun- 
dred locks. I should have considered a latch suffi- 
cient to keep such a treasure, but the orders have 
been well and duly executed." 

It was no sinecure to entertain so great a man 
and his brilliant companion. Three months later 
they returned, to Sceaux this time, and their visit 
was the signal for extraordinary and most inex- 
plicable disorder. Operas were sung. Madame 
du Chatelet, who possessed a "divine voice," ap- 
peared twice in Isse, a great heroic opera by La 
Motte and Destouches. At the first representa- 
tion, there were so many guests that Madame du 
Maine was exasperated. At the second, an intol- 
erable crowd filled the house. The duchess sup- 
pressed the opera and declared that only plays, 
which attracted fewer people, should be given. 
On the 1 5th of December a new piece by Voltaire, 
La Prude, adapted from the English,^ was acted. 
"The crush was so excessive," relates the Duke of 
Luynes in his Memoirs, "that Madame du Maine 
was disgusted. She insisted on seeing all the 
tickets which had been sent." 

That is what she ought to have done at first. 
The mystery was soon cleared. Voltaire and 
Madame du Chatelet had sent out at least five 
hundred invitations thus worded : 

"New actors will represent, Friday, December 
15th, on the stage of Sceaux, a new comedy of five 
acts in verse. 

1 From the Plain Dealer by Wycherly. 




VOLTAIRE 

From an engraving by James Mollison of the picture by Largillier in the 

Institute of France 



The Duchess of Maine 281 

"Come who will, quite without ceremony; at 
six o'clock sharp. . . . After six o'clock the doors 
will open for no one. ..." 

The public rushed to the entertainment, and 
"without any ceremony " invaded the castle. 
Madame du Maine was very angry, and her guests 
left earlier than had been expected. 

It was, however, beyond the power of Voltaire 
to remain on bad terms with a princess who kept 
people from being sent to the Bastille. On her 
part, the little duchess regretted her great man, 
the star of her circle. Voltaire made up his mind 
to take her as his literary ^geria; such was the 
price of their reconciliation. She gave him the 
plot of a tragedy and corrected the play. He 
thanked her by calling her, in his letters, "my 
protectress . . . my genius , . . soul of Cornelia 
. . . soul of the Great Cond^ ! " He wrote to her, 
November, 1794: 

"My Protectress: . . . 

"Your prot^g^ must tell Your Highness that I 
have followed the advice with which you honoured 
me. You can scarcely imagine how much Cicero 
and Caesar have gained by it. Those gentlemen 
would have agreed with you, had they lived at the 
same time. I have just read ' Rome Sauvee. Those 
parts which Your Serene Highness embellished pro- 
duced a stupendous effect.'' 

The compliment was a flattering one. The next 

' To the actors. Rome Sauvee was the tragedy due to Madame 
du Maine's collaboration. 



282 Princesses and Court Ladies 

day, Voltaire went further. Rome Sauvee had be- 
come "your tragedy." 

"We rehearsed to-day the play remodelled, and 
before whom, Madam, do you think? Before 
Franciscans, Jesuits, fathers from the oratory, 
academicians, magistrates, who knew their Cati 
linaires by heart! You can scarcely imagine what 
success your tragedy obtained before that grave 
assembly. . . . Soul of Cornelia! we shall bring 
the Roman senate to the feet of Your Highness, 
on Monday." 

Another letter, to d'Argental this time, explains 
with great frankness his enthusiasm for Madame 
du Maine: "I need her protection and cannot 
neglect her." 

Rome Sauvee was given at Sceaux June 21, 1750. 
Peace was signed. But ^geria had not forgotten 
the past and had taken her precautions, as we can 
see by this note from Voltaire to the Marchioness 
of Malause, written at Sceaux itself, from one room 
to the other: 

"Amiable Colette, beg Her Serene Highness to 
accept our homage and our desire to please her. 
There will not be in all more than fifty persons, 
besides the usual guests of Sceaux." 

Voltaire took the part of Cicero, in which he 
triumphed. The celebrated actor Lekain, who 
represented Lentulus Sura, says in his Memoirs : 
"It was life itself, Cicero in person thundering 
from the tribune. ..." Madame du Maine was 
charmed with her actor. 



The Duchess of Maine 283 

Years flowed on, and Madame du Maine con- 
tinued to divert herself. Between two games of 
ninepins she had found time to become very reli- 
gious, and watched over the souls of her guests, 
but even piety at Sceaux took on a gallant air. 
One day when she was pressing old St. Aulaire 
to go to confession he answered : 

" Ma berg^re, j'ai beau chercher, 
Je n'ai rien sur ma conscience. 
De gr§,ce, faites-moi pecher: 
Apres, je ferai penitence." 

The little tiuchess retorted with a well-known 
quatrain, which, however, is so very free that it 
cannot be repeated here. 

From time to time, death indiscreetly reminded 
the ' ' nymph of Sceaux ' ' that it was on the watch 
by taking off one of her courtiers. Malezieu was 
among the first to disappear. Then came the 
turn of the Duke of Maine, who died of a cancer 
on the face (1736); his wife had taken excellent 
care of him. St. Aulaire followed him at the 
age of ninety-nine, according to some, at a hun- 
dred according to others. Madame d'Estrees, 
Madame du Maine's great friend, died in 1747, 
Madame de Staal three years later. 

These departures for the other world were 
troublesome. They disturbed the rehearsals, 
broke up the donkey rides. But it was all quickly 
over; the dead were speedily done with. "This 
afternoon," wrote Madame de Staal, "we are to 



284 Princesses and Court Ladies 

bury Madame d'Estrees; then the curtain will fall, 
and she will be forgotten." A few days later 
she adds, "It must be confessed that we go a 
little beyond human nature. Already I see my 
own funeral pomp; if the sorrow is greater, the 
ornaments will be in proportion." After all, 
why should Madame du Maine have taken these 
things to heart? The dead could no longer 
amuse her, they were quite useless, and she was 
eager to get rid of their "funeral pomp " as quickly 
as possible. She said with ingenuousness that she 
was "unfortunate enough not to be able to get 
along without certain people for whom she really 
cared nothing." Thus is explained the fact that 
she was observed "to learn with indifference of 
the death of those who, when they had been a 
quarter of an hour late for cards, or for a drive, 
had caused her to shed tears. " 

At seventy-seven, Madame du Maine continued 
to divert herself. Voltaire, from Berlin, Decem- 
ber 1 8th, 1752, wrote to one of the wits at Sceaux: 
"Put me, as ever, at Madame du Maine's feet. 
She is a predestined soul and will love the theatre 
up to her last moments, and, if she falls ill, I 
advise you instead of Extreme Unction to ad- 
minister a fine comedy. One dies as one has 
lived; I die, I who write these words, scribbling 
more verses than La Motte Houdard." 

She remained violent and capricious, which, as 
time went on, grew less and less becoming; a 
young princess may stamp her foot and cry for 



The Duchess of Maine 285 

the moon not without grace; an old female dwarf 
in a rage is ugly to look upon and amuses no one. 
She remained also tyrannical and unreasonable; 
she reduced her guests to so hard a slavery that 
Destouches one day made up his mind to run 
away from Sceaux as though it had been the 
Bastille. She still had sleepless nights during 
which she had to be amused by reading aloud or 
the telling of stories. She continued to put on 
"a prodigious quantity of rouge," ^ and would 
remain two hours before her mirror during which 
time she insisted on having a circle of admirers 
about her. She was very fond of good things to 
eat, but as she found it better for her health to 
eat alone, it was only at her table that delicate 
viands were served; she had grown thrifty with 
regard to the guests' table. She still kept her 
caustic and vivacious wit, and was to the end 
eloquent and original. She lived for pleasure 
alone. She was delighted with herself and per- 
suaded that, if she was not a goddess, she was 
next door to one. 

This goddess, like a simple mortal, took cold, 
and from this cold resulted a little accident, 
January the 23d, 1753. We leave the Duke of 
Luynes to describe it: ''She was eternally com- 
plaining, now of a cold, now of her eyes, and yet, 
in reality, enjoyed very good health, which her 
physical conformation scarcely warranted. Dur- 
ing a year or two, however, she had been often 

* Memoirs of Luynes. 



286 Princesses and Court Ladies 

indisposed, and at the end died of a cold which 
she could not spit up." To die of a cold which 
she could not "spit up" was not very poetical 
for a nymph; but one dies as one can. Madame 
du Maine left two sons, the Prince of Dombes and 
the Count of Eu, who made but little noise in the 
world. 

Thus ended this strange little creature. In the 
midst of her extravagances, of her peculiarities, 
of her unequal moods and tempers, one thing, at 
least, remained in her immovable and firmly fixed, 
her faith in the divinity of her rank. This is what 
explains her superb indifference to others, which, 
had she not been so very high a lady, we should 
call her egotism. And that, also, is what makes 
her, as a study, so curious and so interesting, just 
as, in a museum, the skeletons of an obsolete race 
of animals interest us. It has been said, and about 
her, too, "that princes are, morally, what mon- 
sters are, physically ; in them one sees, spread out, 
most of the vices hidden in other men." In the 
time when she lived, nothing was more true. In 
our day, we can scarcely imagine what princes and 
princesses were two centuries ago — beings set 
apart, marked on the forehead with a divine seal, 
freed by their birthright from all regard for other 
men, and subjected to special moral laws, made 
for them and for them only. Modern princes and 
princesses are of another type. They constantly 
forget that they are not made on the same pattern 
as the rest of us, and thus they make us forget it 



The Duchess of Maine 287 

too. How can we believe in them, if they do not 
beHeve in themselves ? 

Respect for royal domains has disappeared with 
the respect for royal persons. Sceaux, confiscated 
by the Convention, was sold in 1798 to a man of 
low birth, who demolished the castle and the cas- 
cade, cut down the trees, and transformed the park 
into fields. He left nothing standing but the 
Aurora Pavilion and a fragment of the park, which 
was bought from him and still exists, with its 
trimmed bowers, its lawns, and broken columns. 
This is where the menagerie used to be. Public 
balls are now given here, and, on Sundays, Parisian 
grisettes dance in the avenues where Madame du 
Maine played with her small monkeys as she was 
making out a puzzle. Chance sometimes shows 
a humourous sense of fitness. This pretty nook of 
the menagerie has not changed its character. It 
has remained a place of trifles and capers, as in 
the days of the little duchess. 



THE MARGRAVINE OF BAYREUTH 

The Margravine of Bayreuth, sister to the great 
Frederick, left Memoirs written in French, which 
were printed first in Paris, in 1810, and often re- 
pubHshed in a German translation. About thirty 
years ago, her correspondence with her brother was 
given to the public. Sainte-Beuve seized the op- 
portunity of drawing the portrait of this amiable 
princess. It is a singular fact, that he studied her 
only through her correspondence commenced when 
she was over twenty, and which at the beginning, 
at least, is not particularly interesting. Not 
without some show of irritation, he refused to 
speak of the Memoirs, which picture the curi- 
ously interesting childhood and early youth of 
the Margravine of Bayreuth and of her brother 
Frederick II. 

The truth was that Sainte-Beuve had just found 
his political road to Damascus. He was sincerely 
shocked by the levity with which this king's 
daughter treated the courts of her day ; he even 
took her severely to task for her ill-sounding sar- 
casms and for furnishing weapons to the enemies 
of "an order of things which was her own and 
which she ought not to wish to debase or to see 
destroyed." 

Sainte-Beuve's critical instinct, usually so keen, 

288 



The Margravine of Bayreuth 289 

was here at fault through the ardour of his newly 
hatched, and consequently intolerant, reverence 
for the great. This work, in which he sees nothing 
but a tissue of frivolous sarcasms directed against 
princes, the "error " of a clever woman, gives us, 
on the contrary, a vivid picture of German man- 
ners at the beginning of the eighteenth century, 
and therefore is most precious to history. If the 
society described by the Margravine is coarse, the 
more shocking is the contrast between this coarse- 
ness and what is known of the flowering of German 
civilisation a hundred years earlier, and the better 
one understands the disastrous extent of the Thirty 
Years' War, which had plunged Germany back- 
ward into barbarism. The Margravine was bom 
just when the convalescent nation was once more 
setting forth on the road toward those high desti- 
nies which we have witnessed, and so her Memoirs 
show us, at the same time, the triumph of savage 
brutality under her father, Frederick William I, 
and the latent workings which prepared for the 
reign of the great Frederick. The princess is piti- 
less toward the world in which she grew up, and 
yet one feels in these artless pages the truth of what 
Frederick II said about his father: "It is by his 
care that I have been enabled to do what I have 
done." 

It will not perhaps be without interest to 
examine the society which the Margravine has 
graciously presented to posterity with such bound- 
less frankness, and to learn what was the life of a 



290 Princesses and Court Ladies 

king's daughter in the good old kingly times, when 
princes were envied by all. 



Frederick William I, second king of Prussia, 
and his queen Sophia Dorothea, daughter of George 
I, King of England and Elector of Hanover, had 
four sons and six daughters, without counting the 
children who died in infancy. Princess Wilhel- 
mina, who in due time married the Margrave of 
Bayreuth, and was the author of the Memoirs, was 
the eldest of the surviving children. She came 
into the world at Potsdam, July 3, 1709, and was 
but ill received because a prince had been expected. 
Her first years were sad, her youth most unhappy. 
Her father was a terrible man; her mother was 
very weak, unable to defend either herself or those 
belonging to her. 

Queen Sophia Dorothea was naturally kind and 
generous. Married to Frederick William, however, 
his violent outbursts alarmed her, and fear made 
her peevish and unreliable. She was clever enough, 
and yet made endless silly mistakes; she was de- 
voted to the least agreeable of husbands, but spent 
her life in irritating him. She loved her children, 
and yet when Frederick was being persecuted, all 
she could find to do for him was, very regularly, 
to send him twelve new shirts every year. Her 
maternal grandmother was the beautiful Eleanore 




THE MARGRAVINE OF BAYREUTH 
From a steel engraving 



The Margravine of Bayreuth 291 

of Olbreuse, in whom the royal house of Prussia has 
as an ancestress, the daughter of a simple noble- 
man of Poitou, In spite of this blemish the Queen 
concentrated in her person all the haughtiness of 
the Hanoverian House. Her head was turned by 
her greatness and she threw herself in her pride of 
rank, into a sea of chimerical adventures, which 
often proved too deep for her. She would then 
become vindictive, for this same pride of blood 
never allowed her to forgive those who had offended 
her. A word from her husband would make her 
crouch and quake, but she avenged herself by 
tyrannizing over others. Had she been happy 
she would have flowered into goodness and charm. 
Oppressed and crushed, she added to the gloom of 
the palace, and one could only pity her. She was 
portly and fair-skinned, with well-cut, rather large 
features, majestic in deportment, and appearing to 
great advantage in her part as queen. 

Of Frederick William we have very striking 
portraits. Stout and heavy, the lower part of 
the face massive, with round, staring, unquiet 
eyes, he looks the brute that he was, the obstinate 
and tyrannical brute that well-nigh strangled his 
son, Frederick II, with a curtain cord. His ex- 
pression shows him capable of those fits of anger 
verging on madness which could be heard from 
afar, and caused the people to crowd about his 
windows. He always carried a stick, and in his 
perpetual outbursts of rage, he struck wildly 
right and left, adding kicks and cuffs to the beat- 



29^ Princesses and Court Ladies 

ing. He would run after people, and drag them 
by the hair, so as to flog them more easily, or 
else, if gout kept him in his chair, he would throw 
anything that he could reach at their heads. It 
was necessary to watch him carefully so as to 
dodge in time. Jealous, avaricious, drunken, full 
of manias, and hating books and the arts with a 
sort of passion, he made his wife and children 
pitifully unhappy. Yet, he was not a bad king. 
His manias answered exactly to the wants of the 
country. They were a boon after the tribula- 
tions through which Germany had passed and 
which had made it go backward several centuries. 
In the pictures of the old German school, ex- 
amine the towns with their pointed gables, their 
great high roofs with rows of small windows one 
above the other, their little airy turrets placed 
at the edge of the roofs like swallows' nests, their 
heavy, well kept ramparts, which might serve as a 
background even to biblical scenes. This is an- 
cient Germ.any, flourishing, industrious, softened 
by long peace, having borrowed from the Refor- 
mation much vivacity, and curiosity of mind, and 
the love of liberty. Order and activity reigned in 
the streets, well-being and comfort in the houses. 
German artisans were celebrated and sent their 
handicraft "even to the most distant lands, situ- 
ated at the four winds of the world." ^ The pros- 
perous middle class directed the affairs of the 
towns with great wisdom. Nuremberg had three 

» Sebastian Mtmster, Cosmographia Universalis (1544). 



The Margravine of Bayreuth 293 

hundred cannons on her fortifications, wheat for 
two years in her stores, a treasure of fifteen mil- 
lions of florins, a greater sum than Frederick 
William, King of Prussia, left after twenty-sevefi 
years of stringent economy. Augsbourg was still 
richer, more refined as to manners, with a more 
lively taste for luxury and artistic objects; the 
gardens of her bankers could rival those of the 
King of France, and their houses were full of 
treasures. The country was well cultivated. The 
mines have perhaps never yielded so much; ac- 
cording to Ranke, the quantity of silver thrown 
upon the market by Germany, during the sixteenth 
century, almost equals the value of the American 
gold.^ The traffic in men which provided foreign 
countries with troopers, rid the land of adven- 
turous and turbulent spirits. The institution of 
mercenary armies secured the quiet of the country 
till the day came when that same institution 
brought ruin with it. 

The Thirty Years' War swept over this happy 
land and left it waste, depopulated, crushed, a 
terrifying proof of the ease with which a great 
civilisation, even in modem times, can be anni- 
hilated. The mercenary troops of Wallenstein and 
Tilly left a desert behind them; the plague and 
famine completed their work. There was a de- 

^ Ranke, Zur Deutschen Geschichte. It must be remembered 
that Ranke always maintained that the revenues Spain got from 
America, during the sixteenth century, were far less considerable 
than is usually supposed. (See his Spain Under Charles V, 
Philip II, and Philip III.) 



294 Princesses and Court Ladies 

struction of towns, "the like of which had not 
been seen since Jerusalem," in some five provinces, 
four villages only remained standing. Thirty 
thousand people were killed at a time, vast plains 
were left uncultivated and became forests once 
more. When peace returned, Berlin had only six 
thousand inhabitants, huddled in houses roofed 
with wood and straw. 

In Bohemia, the country was a desert. ' ' Armed 
men who ventured to cross it sometimes met a 
group of peasants around a fire, preparing their 
supper, human remains in the pot." ^ Fearful 
moral ruin accompanied material ruin: "We had 
forgotten how to laugh," said a contemporary. 
The people became as ferocious as the soldiery; 
the middle classes seemed reduced to idiocy 
by excess of misfortune ; the nobility, abominably 
ignorant, resorted to drunkenness. In all classes, 
coarseness and unheard of harshness reigned, 
and when learning revived it took on the char- 
acter of prodigious pedantry. The dregs of the 
German nature, stirred during a whole genera- 
tion, had come to the surface. The country's 
wounds were so deep that thirty years ago one 
questioned whether they were quite healed, and 
whether the Germany of the nineteenth century 
was not, in some respect, still inferior to that of 
the sixteenth. 

It was in the midst of this barbarism and misery 

1 Hormayr, Taschenbuch fiir die Vaterlandische Geschichte, 
quoted by Michelet. 



The Margravine of Bayreuth 295 

that Prussia came upon the world's stage. Fred- 
erick William was not one to restore it to politeness 
and gentleness, but he was the very man to pre- 
pare it for the great part it was to play under his 
successor. His avarice brought order in the 
kitchen as well as in public affairs. He fashioned 
Prussian administration on his own pattern; hard, 
methodical, precise. His journeys through the 
provinces, cane in hand, accustomed public officers 
to a discipline, the tradition of which still exists. 
It is true that, beyond his frontiers, he did not 
know how to make himself respected. Diplomacy 
was not among his natural accomplishments. He 
was abusive with ambassadors as with the rest of 
humanity. One day he lifted his foot to kick an 
English envoy, and a negotiation fell to the ground 
in consequence. Nothing could keep him from 
giving a piece of his mind, no matter to whom, or 
under what circumstances, and always getting 
into some kind of petty broil. The other sover- 
eigns knew him well and in no way trusted him. 

His great pride was his army. He originated 
the idea that a Prussian must be bom with a hel- 
met on his head, and he made the nation believe 
it. One of the Margravine of Bayreuth 's first 
reminiscences was that of seeing the coirrt and the 
town at the death of her grandfather, Frederick I, 
suddenly in uniform. "All was changed at Ber- 
lin," she writes. "Those who wished to curry 
favour with the new king put on helmets and 
breastplates, everything became military." At 



296 Princesses and Court Ladies 

four o'clock in the morning, Frederick William was 
in the square before the palace commanding the 
manoeuvres. The Prussian army, in his hands, 
became the perfect machine which has served as 
model up to our days. He, himself, for very love 
of his army, was a peaceable king. He would have 
hated to send his regiments to the war for fear of 
spoiling them. There was one in particular, com- 
posed of men well above six feet in height, the joy 
of his eyes, his pride, his love, which he could 
never bear to have out of his sight. For this great 
regiment, Frederick William showed himself prod- 
igal and patient. In order to secure all the giants 
in Germany, and to see them resplendent at the 
parade, he became extravagant and endured in- 
sults. He sent out of the country to enroll giants 
at high prices ; if they refused he had them carried 
off by force, at the risk of serious complications 
with his brother sovereigns; was it not all for the 
great regiment, that regiment for which he was 
ready to make any sacrifice, except that of giving 
up a fine soldier ? He made up for all this self- 
control in his treatment of his family. 



II 

Little Princess Wilhelmina was bright and in- 
telligent. Nature made her gay, and trouble 
never entirely saddened her. At the first gleam 
of simshine, her good temper rose anew and she 



The Margravine of Bayreuth 297 

was once more herself, mischievous, fond of danc- 
ing, and bold at playing pranks. When she was 
six years old she found that her father intended 
to plight her to a prince of fifteen, whom she de- 
spised. She discovered that this suitor was a 
coward and she took delight in frightening him 
out of his wits. When her governess found her 
out she punished her severely, and the governess 
had a heavy hand. In the old days princes were 
brought up roughly, and Frederick William was 
not likely to introduce a gentler regime. His 
principle was that "the passions of youth needed 
to be calmed," ^ and Mademoiselle Leti, the gov- 
erness, "calmed" the little princess to such good 
purpose that th^ Margravine later wondered that 
she had not broken her arms and legs, rolling down 
the staircase. 

Leti, however, was dismissed for fear her pupil 
might be lamed for life. Princess Wilhelmina 
then had to get along with her father, who under- 
took to break her in, as well as her brother and 
playfellow, Frederick. Thanks to their father, 
the fear of blows remained one of their liveliest 
impressions of childhood. Frederick especially 
often came out of the paternal hands with his face 
covered with blood and a handful of hair missing. 
The Margravine relates their emotions when Fred- 
erick William surprised them with the Queen, in 
spite of the many stratagems which were employed 
to get them out of the way at the first alarm. 

* Memoirs de Catt. 



298 Princesses and Court Ladies 

Once, unexpectedly, the King entered. Prince 
Frederick had barely time to shut himself up in a 
closet, his sister to creep under the Queen's bed- 
stead, which was so low that she had the greatest 
trouble in squeezing under it. The King threw 
himself on the bed and fell asleep. The children 
could hardly breathe and did not dare to move. 
It is quite the story of Hop-o'-My-Thumb and his 
brothers hidden under the ogre's bed. Princess 
Wilhelmina was then twenty, her brother seven- 
teen. The Prussian ogre, after two hours, left the 
room without having smelt fresh meat, but such 
adventures are not easily forgotten. The Queen 
did not dare to say a word. The King had taught 
her to hold her peace before him. "It is neces- 
sary," said he, "to keep a woman in fear of the 
stick; otherwise, she will dance on her husband's 
head." 

Another lively reminiscence of their youth to 
Princess Wilhelmina and her brother, was that of 
hunger, that of having been famished not once, 
nor twice, nor twenty times, but during weeks and 
months. Frederick William ordered all household 
details, carved and served himself, at table. Every 
day he invited a quantity of generals to dinner, all 
in uniform, stiff and smart. He used to conde- 
scend to get tipsy with them, but outside of drink 
these dinners were nothing more than a course of 
lessons in frugality. The allowance of food at the 
royal table was rigidly fixed ; six very small dishes 
for twenty-four people, and, in serving, the King 



The Margravine of Bayreuth 299 

saw that enough was left over for supper/ When 
he came to his children . . .But here we must 
listen to the Margravine. There are certain 
things that princesses alone have the right to say: 
"When, by chance, anything was left in the dish, 
he spat upon it, to keep us from eating." The 
description of the stew made of old bones, which 
was served to her when she was punished and 
dined in her room, cannot be quoted even from a 
princess's diary. During the long incarcerations 
inflicted upon her in the winter of 1730-1731, 
while her brother was under sentence, she well 
nigh died of hunger. She had reached the limit 
of endurance, when the French colony of Berlin, 
moved to pity, managed to send her some food. 
The depth of her gratitude shows what the crav- 
ings of her appetite must have been. She con- 
fesses ingenuously that she conceived "a high 
esteem" for the French people whom she always 
made it "a rule to succour and protect" on every 
occasion. Frederick William, without a pang of 
remorse, saw his children reduced to skin and 
bones. His one thought was to increase his treas- 
ury. 

What a poet a miser is ! What an idealist ! He 
deprives himself of everything, he is cold, he is 
famished, his life is a miserable one and round 
him he spreads sadness. But there, in his coffers, 
he possesses potentially, luxury, power, flattery, 

^ Another eye-witness affirms that the six dishes were well-filled. 
At any rate, his children did not profit by the abtindance. 



300 Princesses and Court Ladies 

love, friends, all that wealth can give to man. No 
dream is too beautiful, no caprice too costly. He 
buys castles, provinces, the whole world, accord- 
ing to his fancy; in his hand he holds all these 
things when he grasps his gold. With what logic 
he despises the so-called wise man who buys a 
field, or a house, and who rejoices, saying : "It is 
mine." With the miser everything is his, since 
he can procure all things ; and, as long as his treas- 
ure is in the house, no one can take anything from 
him, since his joys are within himself. The rough 
Frederick William was a poet when he gave his 
heir but a bone to gnaw, so that, later, he might 
buy all the giants on earth and have a whole army 
of men six feet and a half high, instead of a single 
regiment. The old King would have risen from 
his grave to see a hundred thousand giants on 
parade. 

It would scarcely have been wise to tell Fred- 
erick William that, in his way, he was a poet. And 
yet he was, without knowing it, and against his 
own will, for there was nothing he despised as 
much as poetry The mere word " verses " put him 
in a rage. One day he noticed an inscription 
above one of the gates of his palace. "He 
asked," relates Frederick II, "what those char- 
acters were: 'Latin verses by Wachter.' At the 
word verses he sent at once for poor Wachter. 
He appeared. My father said to him angrily: 'I 
order you to leave, instantly, my city and my 
states.' He did not require a second command." 




</lC^ L'c/i, / / ///',//,. ^ . , U U , / . , , ,, 



. ,/„ f'T-a^. CPU 



FREDERICK WILLIAM KING OF PRUSSIA 
From an engraving by G. F. Schmidt 



The Margravine of Bayreuth 301 

The chief grievance of Frederick Wilham against 
his son Frederick, for which he really hated him, 
was that the youth was fond of music and poetry ; 
he called him in public, with contumely, "Fife- 
player! Poet!" His great anger against his 
daughter Wilhelmina arose from the fact that she 
encouraged the ' ' effeminate ' ' tastes of her brother 
and his love of literature. 

He himself did not like prose much better than 
verse. Any kind of book was to him like a red 
rag to a bull. It was the enemy. He pounced 
upon it and without even glancing at it sent it 
flying into the fire. The education of his sons 
was conducted according to these principles. As 
to the girls, he left them to the Queen, their 
bringing up being of no importance. So it hap- 
pened that Princess Wilhelmina became, without 
opposition, a highly educated woman, a good 
linguist and an excellent musician. Over the 
boys, however, especially the heir apparent, he 
kept good watch; they were not to be poisoned 
with literature. Forty years later, Frederick II 
trembled as he remembered the scene that took 
place in his room when his father discovered that 
a master, a traitor, was teaching him Latin. 
* ' What are you doing there ? ' ' called out the King. 
"Papa, I am declining mensa, ae." "Ah\ You 
wretch! Teaching Latin to my son! Out of my 
sight." The master rushed away but not before 
receiving a shower of blows and kicks. The pupil 
hid himself under the table, but he was dragged 



302 Princesses and Court Ladies 

by the hair out into the middle of the room and 
violently cuffed. "Let us have no more of your 
mensa,'' said the King, hitting harder still, " or 
that is the way I shall reward you." Frederick 
was then a mere child. He was timid and did not 
learn easily. His father might have disgusted 
him of books for ever and made him a savage 
according to his own image, a savage full of genius, 
yet a savage, but for Princess Wilhelmina. 

Of all the varieties of affection, the most per- 
fect, the most exquisite, is that between sister 
and brother. It usually develops in early youth, 
that age of chivalrous friendships and disinter- 
ested devotion. It has the liberty which can 
never exist in maternal and filial affections, and 
at the same time the strong bond of close rela- 
tionship. The reminiscences and impressions 
shared in infancy, the partaking of the same joys 
and sorrows at the same hearth, be the home gay 
or sombre, sweet or cruel, give it incomparable 
power to devise and heal the heart's secret wounds. 
It has all the delicacy of a friendship between 
man and woman, without danger of yielding to 
those feelings which remind, even the most vir- 
tuous, that a man is a man in a woman's eyes, 
and the converse. It is the salvation of unhappy 
childhood; its sweetness and purity keep away 
despair and the demoralising effects of grief. 
Princess Wilhelmina felt for her brother Fred- 
erick an elder sister's sweet and deep affection. 
The sickly temperament of her brother, his per- 



The Margravine of Bayreuth 303 

petual terrors, had made of him a poor child, sad 
and taciturn. She knew the secret of consohng 
him and reconciHng him with hfe. As he grew 
up she pleaded unceasingly with him for letters 
and arts, for politeness, for human and modern 
ideas, and she triumphed, in spite of her father 
and his rough soldiers. In her, Frederick II had 
a trustworthy confidante, a heroic ally, a perfect 
friend. 1 

III 

In their tastes and ideas, both were in ad- 
vance of the surroundings in which fate had 
placed them, and they suffered in consequence, 
diversely, according to their natures. As soon as 
Prince Frederick had conquered his awful child- 
ish terrors and ceased to tremble at the very 
sound of his father's name, his only thought was 
to escape from him, and to this end he plunged 
giddily into intrigues which culminated in the 
Kustrin tragedy. His sister, on the contrary, 
became prudent, and learned diplomacy at an 
age when little girls usually play with their dolls. 
"I always," said she, "had the misfortune to 
meditate over much; I say the misfortune, for, in 
very deed, by dint of going too deeply into things, 
one discovers how sad they often are." She adds 
that too many reflections at times "weary her" 
but that she had found them "useful for the 
direction of one's conduct." She was thirteen 



304 Princesses and Court Ladies 

when experience reduced her to this sorry phil- 
osophy; she then resolved to understand all 
things, even were it to cost her nights of weeping, 
as often happened. 

Perfect wisdom would have consisted in not 
asking of the things and people meditated upon 
more than they could give. Unfortunately, 
Princess Wilhelmina harboured many ideas most 
preposterous in a king's daughter. She believed 
that she had the right to despise ambition. She 
insisted on counting her own happiness as of some 
weight in the arrangements made for her future. 
"I have always been something of a philosopher," 
she wrote in her blindness, " ambition is not one 
of my faults. I prefer happiness and peace to 
honours; constraint and uneasiness I have always 
hated." Queen Sophia Dorothea, in whom a just 
pride of birth was the only sentiment which Fred- 
erick William's stick had not altered or debased, 
accused her daughter of having a low nature, and 
reproached her with it in the energetic language 
the King had introduced into the Court. She 
remained speechless with indignation when Prin- 
cess Wilhelmina dared to show her intention of 
seeking happiness in marriage, and, in point of 
fact, it was the Queen who was right ; she felt that 
the monarchical tradition was being frittered away 
by the middle -class ideas which under cover of 
philosophy found their way through the palace 
walls. 

Princess Wilhelmina was a bit sentimental. She 




SOPHIA DOROTHEA QUEEN OF PRUSSIA 
From an old copper print 



The Margravine of Bayreuth 305 

was bom so, and, most incredibly, she had re- 
ceived from her father a sentimental education. 
Frederick William himself did not, with impunity, 
belong to the eighteenth century. He considered 
it as necessary, now and again, to give proofs, 
and, as it were, representations of sensibility. 
By the bedside of a sick child he would shed tor- 
rents of tears, but this would not keep him the 
next day from refusing a cup of broth to the 
little invalid. He used to beat Frederick until he 
was stunned, and yet he sent him "with com- 
punction ' ' to visit the hospitals ' ' so that he might 
have an idea of human miseries, and learn to be 
tender-hearted."^ With such examples before 
their eyes, given by so exalted a person, his 
children studied "to be tender-hearted" since 
even their father did not consider that he could 
altogether ignore this quality. In the case of 
Frederick II this trait did not become very deep- 
rooted ; he was sentimental and shed tears only at 
certain times, outside of business hours; but the 
Margravine of Bayreuth ended by indulging in 
this mood in season and out of season; the result 
was, as we shall see, that great imaginary sorrows 
were added to the very real miseries of her youth. 
A German print shows her to us at about thirty, 
in the languishing and somewhat artificial atti- 
tude, which, in painting, is the distinctive mark 
of a poetical and sensitive soul. She is seated, a 
little dog on her lap, her cheek leaning on one 

* Memoirs of Catt. 



3o6 Princesses and Court Ladies 

hand, holding an open book in the other. She 
cannot be said to be pretty. Her face, however, 
is interesting. Her large eyes are too round, like 
her father's, but the expression is sweet and deep. 
Her powdered hair, worn low, gives her a graceful 
little head after the Watteau style. Under the 
mantle which envelops her, one guesses at the 
thinness of her figure. Privations — however 
strange the word may seem, it is here rightly used 
— had ruined her health. Several serious ill- 
nesses in fireless rooms, with convalescence aided 
only by cold water, had reduced her to a shadow; 
she never really recovered. 

This frail creature, so amiable and so unfortu- 
nate, moves one to pity; poor princess, dreaming 
of a love marriage like those in novels, and think- 
ing of the husband who would bring her happiness, 
forgetful that she was born to be merely a political 
tool. What has a king's daughter, the daughter 
of Frederick William I, to do with such dreams! 
It was misfortune enough that she should have a 
delicate mind, eternally wounded and shocked by 
all she saw and heard. What business had she, 
besides, to possess a heart yearning for tenderness! 
In olden times, the people touched by sufferings 
like hers had imagined, for princesses pining from 
the need of love, good fairies who gave casks full 
of diamonds, and kingdoms to boot, to the Prince 
Charming so that he might marry his lady-love. 
We have become much more cruel to the great 
ones of this world. No longer pitying them, we 



The Margravine of Bayreuth 307 

even fancy that they do not suffer as we do, and 
that the heart of a princess, because it had been 
taught silence, is scarcely a woman's heart. It 
seems to me that the story of Princess Wilhelmina 
might move the most hardened. 

She was scarcely out of the cradle, when it be- 
came her fate to be tossed from one proposed mar- 
riage to another ; these were made and unmade by 
.her parents, and everything was considered except 
her own tastes and possible happiness. It would 
be unjust to blame Frederick William and Sophia 
Dorothea. They fulfilled their duties as sover- 
eigns, as indeed they had no choice. But the 
accomplishment of these duties was made unneces- 
sarily cruel by the fantastic temper of the King 
and the Queen's indiscretion. Their daughter's 
settlement in life was for both of them, if I may use 
the expression, the list in which they tilted against 
each other. Each fought for his or her candidate, 
the Queen by underhand intrigues, the King by 
violent blows, and there was no possible chance of 
agreement. They entered the tournament with 
ideas too completely different. The Queen, 
haughty and ambitious, demanded a great al- 
liance. The King, though he was not insensible 
to the advantages of a political marriage, wished 
especially to get husbands for his six daughters 
as economically as possible. Princess Wilhelmina, 
threatened by each with the most terrible fate if 
she obeyed the other, sure of hard treatment 
whichever way she turned, seeing her hand pro- 



3o8 Princesses and Court Ladies 

mised now here, now there, when it was not offered 
in several places at once, North or South, East or 
West, bowed her head and lamented her hard fate. 
She knew that it was inevitable, and yet she cotild 
not resign herself to it. 

IV 

She was first engaged to her cousin, the Prince 
of Wales/ She was four, and he six. He sent 
her presents, and Queen Sophia Dorothea beamed 
with happiness, for this English alliance was her 
own special dream and work. She had arranged 
it, and she clung to it with all the strength of her 
pride; during eighteen years she propped it up 
with an obstinacy that nothing conquered, each 
time that Frederick William broke it down. It 
was Penelope's embroidery. The King unravelled ; 
the Queen repaired. 

Frederick William was not at all times averse 
to the alliance with his nephew. Now and then 
he was as eager for it as his wife, and then he him- 
self knotted the broken threads, but again the fer- 
ment of semi-madness in his brain caused him to 
upset everything and once more things had to be 
begun anew. Sometimes, in a mad rage, he would 
treat the foreign ambassadors like mere German 
generals. The English diplomatist sulked, his 

' Or rather, to be quite exact, the Duke of Gloucester, who 
became Prince of Wales in 1727, at the death of his grandfather, 
George I. 




FREDERICK, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER 
From the painting by I. Simon 



The Margravine of Bayreuth 309 

master stormed, and there was no more talk of 
the Prince of Wales until the Queen arduously 
brought about a reconciliation. At other times, 
the trouble came from the irresistible temptation 
of a few giants discovered in Hanover by the Prus- 
sian Pressgang. Frederick William had them 
kidnapped, though he well knew that George, 
Elector of Hanover, was much more sensitive 
about his prerogatives than was George I, King 
of Great Britain. The Elector claimed his sub- 
jects, the King refused to give them up — that 
would have been too much — the misunderstand- 
ing grew into hatred, and the Queen was reduced 
to the last extremities in her attempt to mollify 
her husband; finally she found him some other 
giants, and the heart of Frederick William melted 
at the sight. On one occasion, the Austrian en- 
voy, Seckendorf, maliciously played upon the 
King's weaknesses to make him quarrel with Eng- 
land, and bind him to Austria. The audience at 
which he presented a quantity of immense Hun- 
garians, destined to pay for the treaty of Wuster- 
hausen (1727), was worthy of the comic stage. 
The King's face beamed with childish glee, which 
became ecstatic when he heard that the Emperor 
had "given orders that all the biggest men of his 
states should be hunted out and presented to Fred- 
erick William." That day, the Prince of Wales 
fell into such discredit that the Queen had much 
ado to bring back her husband to the starting 
point. 



3IO Princesses and Court Ladies 

Princess Wilhelmina felt great indifference to- 
wards this intermittent fianc^. She had never 
seen him and she had not the gift of falHng in love 
by royal decree. The Prince of Wales, less open 
to modern ideas, pretended that this precious gift 
had been vouchsafed to him. As soon as the wind 
blew toward England, he sent word to the princess 
that he was madly in love with her. She only 
laughed. Her cousin was associated in her mind 
with so many scoldings from her mother, so many 
blows from her father, so many ill reports spread 
by the Seckendorf faction, and so many annoy- 
ances, great and small, that she could not think of 
him without irritation. One day, the English 
court, having been secretly informed that she was 
humpbacked, sent women to examine her. She 
was undressed; "I was forced," she said, "to pass 
before them, and to show them my back to prove 
that there was no hump on it. I was beside my- 
self with anger." Another time, the worry of 
this affair, combined with too much hard drinking, 
drove the King into a fit of hypochondria and re- 
ligious mania. "The King preached us a sermon 
every afternoon ; his valet began a hymn in which 
we all joined; we were forced to listen to the ser- 
mon as though it had been preached by an Apostle. 
My brother and I were shaken with laughter which 
we could not always repress. Then all the ana- 
thema of the Church were heaped upon us and we 
were forced to listen with a contrite and penitent 
air, which we had great difficulty in assuming." 



The Margravine of Bayreuth 3 1 1 

The melancholy into which Frederick William 
had fallen was such that he thought of abdicating. 
He wanted to take up his residence at the country 
place of Wusterhausen, where, in all seasons, dinner 
was served in the courtyard, one's feet in the water 
if it happened to rain, and where each royal family 
had but one room for all its members and its fol- 
lowers, male and female; screens served as walls. 
The King informed his wife and daughters that he 
meant to take them to this rustic home. "There," 
said he, "I shall pray God, and watch over the 
field labours, while my wife and daughters attend 
to the household. You have clever fingers (to 
Princess Wilhelmina), I shall therefore give the 
linen into your charge, you will sew and do the 
washing. Frederick, who is avaricious, will be 
the provision manager. Charlotte will go to 
market, and my wife will take care of the small 
children and do the cooking." 

Another time, still fuiious with regard to the 
Prince of Wales, the King vowed he would shut 
up his eldest daughter in a convent. He wrote to 
an abbess who, as one can easily imagine, made no 
difficulty, and answered with enthusiasm. When 
the letter reached him, Frederick William had 
changed his mind, and threatened Wilhelmina 
with a fortress prison if she obeyed her mother 
and married her cousin. The Queen, on the other 
hand, vowed eternal hatred to her daughter if she 
did not marry him, adding, by way of encourage- 
ment. "He is a good-hearted prince, but rather 



312 Princesses and Court Ladies 

stupid ; he is ugly rather than handsome and even 
a Httle deformed. Provided you let him have his 
debauchery in peace, you will govern him com- 
pletely." The Queen often repeated this speech, 
and each time her daughter felt less inclined to 
risk a dungeon for such a prize. 

Frederick William always had a son-in-law 
ready to play against the Prince of Wales. We 
have spoken of the youth whom little Wilhelmina 
frightened to death so as to get rid of him. His 
name was the Margrave of Schwedt and he was 
prince of blood royal. The King had chosen him 
in a fit of drunkenness, and had kept him as a 
scarecrow to frighten the Queen when he had no 
one else at hand. When he no longer needed his 
scarecrow he forgot all about him. Princess Wil- 
helmina paints a cruel portrait of the Margrave; 
of all her admirers, none excited in her a greater 
aversion, perhaps because she knew him best of all. 

Charles XII, King of Sweden, figured for a short 
time in the gallery of Frederick William's possible 
sons-in-law. He could not greatly have troubled 
Wilhelmina 's imagination as she was nine years 
of age when he died. The Memoirs also mention 
a Russian prince. Then came, unless I have for- 
gotten some others, Augustus, Elector of Saxony 
and King of Poland. We must stop and consider 
him because the affair was pushed pretty far and 
also because he was the most singular of all the 
suitors to whom Frederick William was favourably 
inclined. 




AUGUSTUS THE STRONG, KING OF POLAND 
From an old print 



The Margravine of Bayreuth 313 

It was in 1727, during the fit of melancholy and 
piety, when the King was inspired with the idea of 
utilising his wife and daughters in the kitchen and 
laundry. His favourites, who saw their own ruin 
in his abdication, had tried to rouse him in vain. 
Not knowing what else to propose, they persuaded 
him to pay a visit to King Augustus at Dresden, 
and this idea brought about another; they sug- 
gested that their master might profit by his visit 
to arrange a marriage between his host and Prin- 
cess Wilhelmina. Frederick WilHam yielded, and 
started for Dresden in January, 1728. He was 
dazzled. The Polish court was then the most bril- 
liant in Germany. Its luxury seemed overpower- 
ing to a man who had come from Wusterhausen. 
One could eat one's fill and more too, and one 
could drink perpetually. The two kings got roy- 
ally drunk together and, in a maudlin mood, made 
all the arrangements for the marriage. It is true 
that King Augustus was then fifty -eight * and that 
he was old for his age, but "his presence and his 
countenance" were "majestic"; what more could 
a princess of eighteen desire ? It is true that King 
Augustus had three hundred and fifty-four bas- 
tards and that he still kept a harem which accorded 
with so considerable a family. Had he been sober, 
Frederick William would have been severe in his 
appreciation of such conduct; drunk, he forgot all 
about it. It is true that Augustus had had "an 

1 The Memoirs of the Margravine say forty-nine ; this is a mis- 
take: Augustus was bom in 1670. 



314 Princesses and Court Ladies 

accident which kept him from walking or standing 
for any length of time. Gangrene had set in and 
the foot was only saved by cutting off two toes. 
The wound was still open and caused him abomi- 
nable suffering." But this rendered him inter- 
esting, for he continued bravely to do his duty as 
King, and stood, smiling, when etiquette required 
him to do so. 

It is true that King Augustus finished giv- 
ing the full measure of his morality by offering 
Frederick William and his young son Frederick 
an exhibition of so peculiar a nature that the 
King jumped toward his son, turned him around, 
and pushed him out of the room; but this was 
an error, a mistaken politeness which was not 
to happen again. It is true, also, that King 
Augustus did many other things which may not 
be related here, but he had such an excellent 
cellar ! 

King Augustus was accepted and authorised to 
pay his court. Four months later he reached 
Berlin (May 29, 1728), and Princess Wilhelmina 
had to receive this charming bridegroom whom 
decay had impatiently attacked before his burial. 
With great affability he showed her a few of her 
three hundred and fifty -four future step-children, 
and all went on right merrily. In his joy at having 
found so suitable a son-in-law, Frederick William 
gave a dinner which lasted nine hours ; the Queen 
and her daughters were not invited; no useless 
mouths were wanted. Two hours after leaving 



The Margravine of Bayreuth 315 

the table, still intoxicated, the sovereigns began 
to drink again. There were grand doings at the 
palace, Berlin was illuminated, and the betrothed 
King returned to his states to prepare for the wed- 
ding. 

Political dissensions very opportunely threw 
down this card house, but Princess Wilhelmina 
had had a narrow escape. Oddly enough, King 
Augustus had excited no aversion in her. She 
had felt a slight flush of vanity on finding her- 
self suddenly of some importance in the world, 
courted by a king and his followers. For a poor 
Cinderella, the change was as agreeable as it was 
complete, and she was grateful to King Augustus 
though, for a young girl, she was singularly well 
informed as to his debauchery and diseases. He 
said to her ' ' many charming things, ' ' and then he 
was a king and, in those days that meant some- 
thing. 

Immediately after the King of Poland, Frederick 
William took a fancy to a younger son called the 
Duke of Weissenfels, young and gallant, but of so 
little importance in the world that Queen Sophia 
Dorothea was out of her mind with anger at the 
mere thought of such an alliance. We shall have 
occasion to revert once more to this duke. We 
have now come to a pass when the fate of Princess 
Wilhelmina was so involved with that of her 
brother, that it is necessary to recall, as rapidly 
as possible, the prosecution of Katt, in order to 
understand the part she played in the tragedy and 



3i6 Princesses and Court Ladies 

the causes which redoubled the King's aversion 
toward her. 

V 

The streak of madness in Frederick William 
increased with the years. His anger turned to 
delirium; in 1729, he tied a cord around his throat 
and would have strangled to death had not the 
Queen saved him. His avarice also grew on him, 
and little was served at his table except cabbage, 
carrots, and turnips. His irritation against the 
fife player ' ' who, according to him, was destined 
"to ruin all his good work" had changed into a 
maniac's savage hatred, and a large share of this 
hatred fell to Princess Wilhelmina. He was 
greatly struck by the fact that these two child- 
ren were so different from himself. He felt that 
he had good reasons for finding fault with their 
looks, and even with their silence, for he believed 
them both to be quite given over to French ideas, 
French philosophy, and French fashion, whereas 
he wanted all things in Germany to be thoroughly 
German. In this he was quite right. Each race 
has its own genius, which guides it in its proper 
path, and a nation rarely achieves success in 
following its neighbour's lead. Nearly always it 
is forced to retrace its steps ; in thinking to take a 
short cut, it has merely lost its way. Frederick 
William's great fault was not that he wished for 
a German Germany, but that he insisted on hav- 
ing a motionless Germany; that he tried to stop 



The Margravine of Bayreuth 317 

the nation in the prodigious bound that was to 
carry it to the clouds; above all he had utterly 
failed to perceive the genius of a son, who, if he 
did amuse himself with writing French verses, 
was destined to inaugurate a government immea- 
surably more national than his own, a son who, 
on reaching the throne, finding Germany a mere 
satellite of Austria, would leave it on the sure 
road to reverse the situation. 

It would have been impossible to have been 
more blind than was his father towards Frederick 
II, and his reasons were most trivial. Other 
monarchs and more illustrious, had foreseen with 
bitterness that their heirs would destroy their 
work. Philip II and Peter the Great understood 
that fate had placed them between two mon- 
strous alternatives ; to deliver up millions of men 
into the hands of a madman like Don Carlos, or 
an idiot like Alexis, or to commit an execrable 
crime. Don Carlos and Alexis disappeared from 
the face of the earth. If the crimes were great, 
they were inspired by motives equally great. 
With Frederick William everything was petty and 
mean ; ideas, sentiments, acts. He judged his son 
to be worthless and dangerous to the state be- 
cause he was wanting in the qualities of a good 
drill-sergeant. Nothing could take from the King 
these low considerations. He hated Frederick, as 
a model non-commissioned officer hates a soldier 
who shames his company by not keeping the line. 
He would have liked to decapitate him because 



3i8 Princesses and Court Ladies 

he foresaw that Frederick would not, hke himself, 
pass six or seven hours a day coramanding ma- 
noeuvres: what was the use of him then? It did 
not dawn upon him that Frederick II would spoil 
his beautiful army by leading it to battle, and 
that was lucky for Frederick; had the thought 
crossed the King's mind he might not have hesi- 
tated about the execution; but he was certain 
that his son, by carelessness and incapacity, would 
spoil his beautiful plaything, the regiment of 
giants. 

The sight of Frederick was odious to him, and 
he hated Princess Wilhelmina almost as much, 
for she shared her brother's shameful taste for 
poetry and music, and was the confidante of his 
sorrows. Their lives became a perfect martyr- 
dom after 1729, when an attack of gout in both 
feet reduced the King to an invalid's rolling chair. 
Frederick William had trained the servants who 
pushed this chair to pursue those whom he wished 
to beat. One can picture to one's self these 
strange races through the royal palace of Berlin, 
the scampering of princes and princesses running 
away from threatening crutches. Princess Wil- 
helmina once came near being killed ; the servants 
saved her by letting her gain on them. The 
King was haunted by the fear that his children 
might profit by his illness to return to their hate- 
ful books. He kept them within sight. "We 
were forced," relates his daughter, "to be in his 
room at nine o'clock, we dined there and did not 



The Margravine of Bayreuth 319 

dare to leave it on any pretext whatever. The 
whole time was spent by the King in heaping 
curses on my brother and on me. ' ' What follows 
is of such a nature that it is scarcely possible even 
to allude to it. The King forced them to eat 
what disagreed with them, and never allowed 
them to move from the room; when he was 
wheeled about the castle, they followed behind 
his chair. "The torments of purgatory," writes 
the Margravine, "could not equal ours." At the 
beginning of 1730, Frederick crept one evening 
into his sister's room and vowed that he could 
stand it no longer and that he meant to leave 
the country. 

The Princess was terror-stricken. Her common 
sense showed her the dreadful consequences of so 
rash an act. She reasoned, implored, wept, and 
at last obtained her brother's promise to give up 
this plan. The King's persecution quickly brought 
him back to it, and several months were spent in 
this struggle, during which the Princess felt that 
she must inevitably be vanquished. "His mind 
was so soured," says she, "that he no longer listened 
to my exhortations and his anger even turned 
against me." Frederick was in that state of ex- 
asperation when prudence is forgotten and even 
despised. He had divulged his project to his 
friend, young Katt, whose name, thanks to this 
dangerous honour, has been recorded in history ; he 
was a giddy and garrulous youth, who confided his 
secret to every one. One evening he was speak- 



320 Princesses and Court Ladies 

ing of it to Princess Wilhelmina, in the Queen's 
apartments, in the midst of many curious 
lookers-on. The Princess said to him, "I already 
see your head unsteady on your shoulders, and 
if you do not soon change your conduct, I may 
one day see it at your feet." "I could not lose 
it," answered he, "in a better cause." ''I did not 
give him time to say more," continues the Margra- 
vine, " and I left him. ... I did not think that 
my sad predictions would, so soon, be realised." 

A few days later, the Queen took advantage of 
the King's absence, to amuse her daughter. She 
gave a ball (August i6th, 1730). "I had not 
danced for six years," say the Memoirs, "it was 
a new pleasure for me and I gave myself up to it 
joyfully." In the midst of the merry doings, it 
was noticed that the Queen had grown suddenly 
very pale, and conversed apart with her ladies. 
Frederick, who had accompanied his father, had 
been arrested just as he was on the point of run- 
ning away. The King would have killed him 
then and there if his generals had not snatched 
him away; but no one knew what might follow. 
In spite of her anguish, the Queen controlled her- 
self. She did not weep, did not interrupt the 
dances, and waited a certain time before taking 
leave and retiring with her daughter. When they 
were alone in their apartments, both shed many 
tears and both fainted; after which they agreed 
on what had better be done. 

The only service they could render the prisoner 




FREDERICK THE GREAT 
From an old copper print 



The Margravine of Bayreuth 3^1 

was to destroy his papers. It is true that this 
service was a most important one. One is aston- 
ished that the members of the royal family were 
able to indulge their passion for scribbling to such 
an extent, for the King was most suspicious and 
never scrupled to open letters. They continually 
wrote to each other, criticising the King and his 
advisers, so that their correspondence might have 
sent them all before the judgment seat, had it 
been discovered. Frederick kept all his letters. 
The box containing this correspondence, hidden 
outside of the palace, had to be discovered, the 
seals broken, the lock forced, the compromising 
epistles, among them about fifteen hundred from 
the Queen and her eldest daughter, burnt, other 
letters written to fill up the gaps, and a new seal 
procured so as to replace everything as it had 
been. Princess Wilhelmina showed wonderful 
presence of mind and activity. Her mother im- 
peded the work with her agitation, her terror, 
her absurd chattering. She however completed 
her task, except that the Queen insisted on closing 
the casket before enough false letters had been 
written to fill it. The fear of being surprised by 
the King was too strong. The Queen thought 
herself very clever because she filled up the empty 
spaces with rags, and when the seals were put on 
again she breathed more easily. According to the 
Memoirs, this must have been on the 2 2d or 23d 
of August, and no news had come from Frederick 
since his arrest. 



322 Princesses and Court Ladies 

On the 27th at five o'clock in the evening, the 
King returned. As soon as he caught a ghmpse 
of the Queen, he called out to her: "Your un- 
worthy son is no more; he is dead." "What, 
you were barbarous enough to kill him?" "Yes, 
I tell you; but now I must have his strong box." 
The Queen, beside herself, only called out without 
stopping, "My God! my son — O my son!" Her 
children rushed about terrified. Frederick Wil- 
liam catching a glimpse of his eldest daughter 
seemed to go raving mad. "He became quite 
black, his eyes blazed, he frothed at the mouth. 
'You abominable wretch,' he said, 'How dare 
you to show yourself to me? Go and keep your 
detestable brother company!' As he uttered 
those words, he seized me with one hand, hitting 
me on the face with his fist, one blow struck me 
so heavily on the temple that I fell back, and I 
should certainly have broken my head against a 
sharp corner of the wainscotting had not Madame 
de Sonnsfeld caught hold of me by the hair. 
While I was still unconscious, the King, quite 
out of his mind, wanted to finish me with more 
blows and kicks." 

The young princes, princesses, and court ladies 
all threw themselves before Princess Wilhelmina. 
The young children cried, the Queen uttered pierc- 
ing cries, running hither and thither, wringing her 
hands, a crowd gathered, for the windows were 
open and the room, on the ground floor, was on a 
level with the public square. In the midst of this 



The Margravine of Bayreuth 323 

scene, worthy of Bedlam, a procession passed be- 
fore the windows. Guards were leading Katt, 
Frederick's confidant; others carried his coffers 
and those of the prince which had been seized and 
sealed. Katt saw Princess Wilhelmina and no- 
ticed that her face was swollen and bleeding. 
"Pale and overwhelmed as he was," said she, "he 
still lifted his hat and saluted me." On his side, 
Frederick William also saw Katt. He ran out, 
wanted to fall upon him, calling out, "Now I 
shall have proofs enough against that abominable 
Fritz and that hussy of a Wilhelmina. I shall 
have law on my side and their heads shall fall!" 
A court lady was brave enough to stop the madman 
and to speak firmly to him. He looked at her and 
was silenced. She threatened him with divine 
vengeance; he listened and remained dumb, awed 
by the calmness and firmness of a woman. When 
she had finished, he thanked her and turned away, 
almost quieted. It is true that his fit of madness 
came upon him five minutes later when he again 
saw Katt and he beat him till the blood came. 
Princess Wilhelmina, that very evening, was 
double-locked in her room and a sentinel placed 
at her door. She was carried to her apartment 
in a sedan chair in the midst of a great crowd of 
peasants and common folk, who had rushed to the 
palace on the rumour that the King had killed two 
of his children. 

It is well known that Frederick was taken to 
the citadel of Kustrin. Beforehand, Frederick 



3^4 Princesses and Court Ladies 

William had made him undergo a cross-examina- 
tion which gives the key to the trial which followed. 
His first question, uttered in a furious tone, was: 
"Why did you wish to be a deserter?" This is 
characteristic of the man and of the situation ; the 
outraged person was neither the sovereign nor the 
father ; it was a recruiting officer. ' ' Are you no- 
thing but a cowardly deserter?" he repeated, 
threatening him with his sword. The prince was 
saved once more, and that by one of the generals, 
but the King was not to be gainsaid, and Frederick 
was treated as a soldier who had deserted his col- 
ours. He was kept in prison, without linen, and 
at first without any furniture. He was fed on 
six pence and a half a day, menaced with torture, 
and held for court-martial. Meanwhile, he was 
pressed to confess his crime, and the Queen's trick 
turned against him. He let it be seen that he did 
not recognise the rags stuffed into his casket. The 
King guessed the real culprits and his fury re- 
doubled against both sister and brother. 

The story of Princess Wilhelmina's marriage 
came once more to the front and mingled, after 
an almost ludicrous fashion, with this family trag- 
edy. The King was determined to rid himself of 
his odious daughter. He only hesitated as to the 
means of doing so. He often spoke of cutting off 
her head and took care that she should hear of it, 
but he knew that it was not so easily done as said ; 
and, after all, he had a sense of justice ; if his daugh- 
ter was hateful, she was not a deserter. He once 



The Margravine of Bayreuth 3^S 

more thought of a convent. But at last he de- 
cided to marry her off, with or without her consent, 
to one of the suitors set aside by the Queen. He 
suspected his wife of being mixed up with the 
affair of the casket and wished, more than ever, to 
be disagreeable to her. He, therefore, ordered 
his creatures to persecute Wilhelmina, in her pri- 
son, with perpetual allusions to her future mar- 
riage. Messengers from the King appeared at 
every hour of the day, sometimes so early in the 
morning that, on awakening, Wilhelmina could see 
at the foot of her bed a minister or an officer, 
whose mission was to order her to choose between 
the Margrave of Schwedt and death, or else, in the 
balance there was a horrible convent, or a cell in a 
fortress, or a life like her brother's ; the King would 
pardon Frederick if she was submissive and 
obedient, otherwise his execution would be the in- 
evitable result of her obstinacy. If her repugnance 
toward the Margrave of Schwedt was too great, she 
might accept the Duke of Weissenfels, or she might 
even take the affianced husband of one of her 
younger sisters, the Margrave of Bayreuth; this 
the King would permit and the young couple 
would surely not be so low-minded as to repine at 
what would ensure the peace of the royal family. 
Probably the young people could have but few 
regrets one way or the other, as they had never 
met. 

The prisoner did not yield. She no longer enter- 
tained happy dreams of a loved and loving hus- 



326 Princesses and Court Ladies 

band ; experience had opened her eyes with regard 
to royal marriages. She resisted because her 
mother implored and ordered her to do so, and 
she saw that the poor woman's hope of the English 
marriage alone gave her strength to endure her 
cruel tribulations; this union was to be the Queen's 
one triumph, hoped for during twenty years, and 
which would vanish into thin air did her daughter 
yield. Had it not been for her brother, the Prin- 
cess would have resisted to the end. Death had 
but few terrors for her; the King had taken good 
care that she should be indifferent to life, she clung 
to it only with the heroic, instinctive hope of youth 
which cannot altogether despair at twenty. The 
cloister was not a serious threat and the thought 
of a prison attracted, rather than frightened, her. 
That which she was then enduring was a shelter, 
in spite of the tormentors sent by her father, in 
spite also of the hunger from which she suffered 
cruelly. She had some books, her music, her 
needle, and, now and then, some quiet hours of 
solitude and rest. Later, she counted these days 
of bondage with sentinels at her door and messen- 
gers of the King's wrath perpetually harassing her, 
as among the best of her youth. She only weak- 
ened when her brother's fate was invoked against 
her. The wonder is that, considering her great 
love for him, she should so long have held out, 
simply to please a mother who, it would seem, 
scarcely deserved so great a sacrifice. 

Meanwhile the prosecution against Prince Fred- 



The Margravine of Bayreuth 3^7 

erick and Katt was going on. The council of war 
was assembled at Potsdam. The deliberations of 
these soldiers took rather a singular form. Each 
quoted a paragraph of the Bible which expressed 
his thought, that is, ten claiming blood and two 
speaking of clemency; according to the Memoirs 
of the Margravine of Bayreuth such was the pro- 
portion of the votes. Others have given a differ- 
ent account of the affair.^ However that may be 
Frederick himself has told us the end of the trag- 
edy. His captivity was beginning to be less rig- 
orous. "I thought that all would soon be over, 
when, one morning, an old officer entered my room 
with several grenadiers, all of them in tears. 'Ah! 
Prince, my dear, my poor Prince ! ' exclaimed the 
officer, between his sobs. I certainly thought my 
head was coming off. 'Well, speak! Am I to 
die? I am ready; let the barbarous judges do 
their work quickly.' 'No, dear Prince, you are not 
to die, but you must allow these grenadiers to take 
you to the window and keep you there.' And 
they did, in very deed, hold my head so that I 
should see all that happened. Great God ! What 
a terrible scene! My dear, my faithful Katt, who 
was to be executed just below my window. I tried 

1 David Miiller's History of Germany used in the schools, says 
that "the council of war energetically refused to condemn the 
prince to death." Other German works follow the version here 
given. The Memoirs of Katt leave the question of the majority of 
votes undecided. As Frederick II, on coming to the throne, des- 
troyed the pages which might have compromised the members of 
the council, it is impossible to get at the truth of the matter. 



3^8 Princesses and Court Ladies 

to give him my hand, but it was pulled back. 'Ah ! 
Katt!' I exclaimed, and then I fainted." When 
he came to himself, the bloody body of his friend 
was placed so that he could not help seeing it. 

Princess Wilhelmina had been a prisoner for 
eight months and a half when the minister Grum- 
kow, followed by three other exalted personages, 
entered her room. They gave her to understand 
that her resistance entailed great misery on her 
family and on her country ; that the King and the 
Queen were on the eve of a complete break; that 
Prince Frederick was still in prison, under threat 
of a second trial ; that his friends, his servants, were 
exiled, beaten, thrown into prison, that discord 
reigned in the King's family. She alone could 
put an end to this deplorable situation; the King 
promised that, on her wedding day, her brother 
should be set at liberty, that her mother should 
be restored to his good grace and the past be for- 
gotten. ' ' Great princesses, ' ' added Grumkow, ' 'are 
bom to be sacrificed to the weal of the state. 
Therefore, Madam, submit to the decrees of Provi- 
dence and give us that answer which alone can 
bring peace to your family." 

Reason, weariness, great tenderness toward her 
brother, indifference as to her own fate, all pleaded 
in favour of her father's wishes. She succumbed. 
The Margrave of Bayreuth was offered to her and 
she accepted him. On hearing of her submission, 
Frederick William wrote: "The good God will 
bless you, and I will never abandon you. I will 



The Margravine of Bayreuth 329 

care for you all my life, and, on every occasion, 
prove to you that I am 

Your faithful father." 

On her side, the Queen wrote: "I no longer 
acknowledge you for my daughter and henceforth 
I shall look upon you as my most cruel enemy, for 
it is you who give me up to my persecutors, who 
triumph over me. Count no longer upon me; I 
swear to hate you always and never to forgive 
you." 

The Queen alone kept her promise. 

Thus, at last. Princess Wilhelmina was mar- 
ried, November 20, 1731, to a prince whom his 
father-in-law greatly despised and whom he had 
chosen merely to punish his wife and his daugh- 
ter, whom his mother-in-law hated because he 
represented the ruin of all her dreams, whom his 
wife had long hesitated to accept instead of a 
prison, and whom no one, in fact, had ever con- 
sulted in the matter. The newly married pair 
must have looked one at the other with consid- 
erable curiosity; they had to become acquainted, 
as they were absolute strangers. 

During the ceremony, the King wept and was 
liberal in promises which he had no intention of 
keeping; he put off the settlements until after the 
marriage. The Queen was in the worst of tem- 
pers. She had been informed, rightly or not, that 
the English would decide upon the marriage that 
day, and while Wilhelmina 's hair was being put 
up on one side she pulled it down on the other, so 



33^ Princesses and Court Ladies 

as to gain time for the English messenger to 
arrive. The bridegroom was tipsy. His father- 
in-law, ashamed of a prince who was not given to 
wine, had forced him at dinner to drink so much 
that he was no longer quite himself. At night 
the King forced the bride to kneel down in her 
nightdress and say her prayers aloud. The Queen 
took that opportunity for abusing her still more, 
and thus ended this lovely wedding day. 



VI 

For the first time since she had come into the 
world, Princess Wilhelmina had been lucky. The 
husband she had drawn at the lottery, without 
being a great prize, was yet such as exactly suited 
a romantic princess. His purse was very flat and 
Bayreuth was but an insignificant principality. 
But he was young, good looking, always cheerful, 
wonderfully courteous and polite, as compared 
with Frederick William's generals, and last but 
not least, very much in love with his wife. And 
how she gave back love for love ! What a change 
in her sad, desolate life! Since she had been sep- 
arated from her brother no one had spoken kindly 
to her, no one had pitied her, and suddenly she 
found herself tenderly cared for by this generous 
stranger who had been imposed upon her, and 
who, seeing her so forlorn, had been moved to 
compassion. It was incredible. The contrast was 



The Margravine of Bayreuth 33^ 

rendered all the greater by the harshness of the 
Queen, who kept her promise of never forgiving; 
by the insolence of the courtiers, who followed 
suit by turning their backs on the Princess in dis- 
grace; by the apparent coldness of Frederick, set 
at liberty according to his father's promise, but 
to whom misfortune had taught prudence; and 
by the new eccentricity of the King, who ignored 
his daughter since she had become a poor little 
future Margravine. On the other hand, Frederick 
William had undertaken to make his son-in-law 
less ridiculous by teaching him what he con- 
sidered the four cardinal virtues: wine, economy, 
love of military matters, and German manners. 
With this in view he tried to intoxicate him on 
every occasion, and gave him a regiment, "insinu- 
ating that it would be a pleasing thing were he to 
go and take possession of it." As to economy, 
that was forced upon him ; the King did not give 
the newly married pair a farthing and seemed 
quite to have forgotten all about the dowry and 
the settlements. 

The young people were wild to run off to Bay- 
reuth. They consulted as to the means of per- 
suading the King to settle their money matters. 
"To accomplish this," writes the Margravine in- 
genuously, "there were but two means: one was 
to obtain giants for him; the other was to offer 
him and his boon companions a banquet in order 
to make him drink. The first expedient was not 
in my power, for tall men do not grow like mush- 



33^ Princesses and Court Ladies 

rooms; they were so rare that scarcely could one 
find three that could suit him in a whole country. 
The second course had to be followed. I invited 
the sovereign to dine with us. . . . There were 
forty guests and the banquet was excellent." In 
one way the success was complete. The King 
and his friends left the table completely tipsy; 
the Margrave alone had kept his head. Frederick 
William embraced his daughter, embraced his son- 
in-law. He sent for ladies from the town and 
began dancing. At three o'clock in the morning 
he was still dancing, he, Frederick William! 

They thought the victory certain. In truth, 
the King declared his intentions. He consented 
to lend his son-in-law two hundred and sixty 
thousand crowns, to be returned at stated times. 
He gave as dowry to his dear Wilhelmina, sixty 
thousand crowns, with a service of plate which 
already belonged to her (let us be fair: the 
plate had been given by him), and, inestimable 
privilege! a regiment for her husband, which he 
was to command every time that he came to 
Berlin. The husband and wife were dum- 
founded. The young Margravine's revenues were 
already eaten up by necessary expenses, and she 
calculated that out of what her husband possessed 
she could count on only eight hundred crowns a year 
for her personal wants. In spite of the severe econ- 
omy to which both had been accustomed, with 
such a sum it was impossible to hold court, even 
djt the price of small courts during the eighteenth 



The Margravine of Bayreuth 333 

century. The Margravine ventured to make a 
few respectful observations. Frederick WilHam, 
seemingly moved, caused the contract to be 
handed to him and cut off four thousand crowns 
from the dowry. There was nothing for it but 
to hold one's peace. They put off a last effort to 
mollify him to the day of their departure, January 
II, 1732. 

The opportunity seemed an excellent one. The 
Margravine showed signs of approaching mother- 
hood, and this was the very moment for Frederick 
William to express his overflowing sentimentality; 
he was so happy at the thought of being a grand- 
father. His daughter's discourse on her great 
poverty was apparently too much for his tender 
heart: "He burst into tears, and could not an- 
swer me for sobbing, he expressed his feelings by 
his kisses." Making a great effort to control him- 
self, the King assured his daughter that she could 
trust him, that he would help her, and then he 
added: "I am too much moved to take leave of 
you; embrace your husband for me; my feelings 
are such that I cannot even see him." Where- 
upon he turned heel and went off, still weeping. 
Tears were all they obtained. Frederick William 
in all this was by no means a hypocrite. He was 
sincerely touched by his daughter's penury, for 
the misfortune of having no money seemed to 
this miser the greatest of all, and he ran away so 
as not to be forced to diminish his own treasure. 
This old non-commissioned officer, known as King 



334 Princesses and Court Ladies 

Frederick William, was neither amicable nor easy 
to deal with; but he was certainly original and 
his manias interest one, after all. 

The young people went off, as poor, as Job, but 
with a light heart. They were overwhelmed 
with joy at leaving the paternal barracks, at not 
being awakened at four o'clock in the morning 
by the artillery exercise, at not having to dine 
with a dozen generals in uniform, at being free 
from scoldings and wranglings, at having the 
right to laugh and to love each other, to blossom 
into life and joy. Later, they would have to 
think of some means of buying shirts and other 
necessary articles ; for the time being they enjoyed 
their liberty, and that was enough. This pleas- 
ure had no drawback, with the exception of 
official harangues, until they reached the frontier 
of the Bayreuth states. The Princess describes 
their arrival with her usual frankness. She had 
known avarice; she had not known sordid pov- 
erty, and it must be confessed that her future 
subjects, even those who were supposed to be 
well off, were a beggarly set. Their fathers, 
during the ruin of Germany, had become mangy, 
lousy, and ragged ; they themselves had remained 
ragged, lousy, and mangy. With the exception of 
their filth they were not responsible. There is 
an obscure instinct which urges nations to do 
what they are meant to do. The ragged nobles 
who on her arrival so disgusted the Margravine 
were, quite unconsciously, Frederick William's 



The Margravine of Bayreuth 335 

fellow-workers, ignorant as he himself of their 
great task: all together they laboured at the re- 
construction of Germany, and they left to the fol- 
lowing generations solid private and public fortunes. 
The princess only saw their rags and their ver- 
min, of which she made great fun in her Memoirs. 
At the first town she entered, thirty -four nobles, 
gloriously dirty, offered her a bouquet and drank 
to her health until ''they could no longer speak." 
Three days later, she solemnly entered Bayreuth 
in a coach worthy of a comic opera, and discov- 
ered that her capital was nothing but a big village 
''peopled with peasants," and that her father-in- 
law, a ridiculous sort of Geronte, "had the manners 
and habits of a parsimonious rustic proprietor. 
His palace was hung with cobwebs; the draperies 
were in shreds and the windows broken; nothing 
had been mended since the Thirty Years' War, 
and that had been over nearly a century. There 
were no fires, the food was coarse, and the old 
Margrave scolded when the horses were driven too 
hard or too much game was killed. The shirt 
problem proved to be even more serious than the 
young people had foreseen. When the clothes 
brought from Berlin were worn out, their poverty 
became very evident ; the Margravine of Bayreuth 
could not replace them. She tried to borrow and 
met with a refusal; peasants do not easily lend 
money. She went without new dresses and soon 
resembled the Bayreuth ladies who had so excited 
her mirth. 



33^ Princesses and Court Ladies 

The minds of the courtiers were as rustic as 
their appearances. Nothing was discussed but 
household affairs and agriculture. Still, the old 
Margrave had some literary pretensions, and when- 
ever he thought it necessary to exhibit them, 
he talked of T^lemaque, which he had read, and 
talked of it at great length. His daughter-in-law 
feared nothing so much as these literary conversa- 
tions. Certainly the sojourn in the half-ruined 
Bayreuth palace was not gay. The Margravine 
suffered from the gossip and prejudices of the 
small town, from the political wranglings, from 
the jealousy of her sisters-in-law, and most of all 
from the distrust of her father-in-law, who looked 
askance at the fine lady from Berlin and was always 
on the watch for eccentricities ; any sign of civilisa- 
tion was looked upon as eccentric at Bayreuth. 
The old man reduced his daughter-in-law to posi- 
tive slavery so as to keep her from scandalising 
his subjects ; she did not dare go out for an airing 
without first asking his permission. 

The old Margrave's ideal of life was to drink 
with his jolly boon companions. When he trav- 
elled, he stopped at every inn on the road. Once, 
having to cover thirty leagues, these were so nume- 
rous that the journey took up four days. His 
people adored him because he was not proud. He 
had the wiry figure of an old cacochymic peasant ; 
his face was crafty and sly; his mind practical. 
To the Princess's great surprise, the fact of having 
a child of the King of Prussia as his daughter-in- 



The Margravine of Bayreuth 337 

law had by no means dazzled him. He judged 
her more according to her dowry rather than her 
birth, and treated her roughly. He wearied his 
children with his perpetual scoldings and his petty 
tyranny, 

I am sorry to say that my amiable Margravine 
by no means saw the picturesqueness of her new 
position. Sentimental persons rarely appreciate 
the picturesque aspect of life. She loved her 
young husband passionately ; everything else bored 
her quite as passionately. Had she been told, six 
months earlier, when she left her father's generals, 
that she would have felt, at Bayreuth, as did Ovid 
among the Scythians, she would scarcely have 
believed it ; yet it was quite true. Berlin, in her 
fancy, became a centre of luxury and refinement. 
Her father's letters added to her exasperation. 
Frederick William took offence, now that his 
money was safe, that any one should dare to com- 
mand his daughter and to refuse her the common 
necessaries of life. He adjured her tenderly to 
come and "receive the caresses of a fond father," 
promising to secure for her ' ' a good lodging ' ' and 
interfered, without being asked to do so, by re- 
proaching the old Margrave with his inconceivable 
avarice. ' ' I have written, ' ' said he, "a very harsh 
letter to your old fool of a father-in-law." His 
daughter expected no good from this interference, 
and she was right. The old man meant to be mas- 
ter in his own house. During the autumn of 1732, 
the Margravine was forced to borrow from her 



33^ Princesses and Court Ladies 

servants and was unable to afford a governess for 
the daughter to whom she had just given birth. 
She made up her mind to expose her painful situ- 
ation to her father-in-law and to obtain permission 
to visit Berlin. He answered coldly that he was 
' ' greatly mortified ' ' at being unable to assist her, 
but that "in the marriage contract there was no 
mention of travelling expenses for journeys which 
she might wish to take, nor of the cost entailed by 
daughters whom she might bring into the world." 
She had other and bitterer sorrows, caused by 
her brother Frederick, sorrows none the less 
cruel because they were imaginary. She thought 
him forgetful and ungrateful, and never was there 
more flagrant injustice. The letters from Fred- 
erick II to the Margravine of Bayreuth show an 
affection as perfect as it is constant. But he- 
hurt her, nevertheless, by a certain roughness, and 
because she had not foreseen that, coming to man's 
estate, he must necessarily change his tone of 
submission and dependency. She was indignant 
that he should not be eternally at her feet and 
that his duties as prince must sometimes cause 
him to refuse her requests. In the second part 
of the Memoirs she sometimes speaks of Fred- 
erick with irritation; luckily for both of them he 
always forgave her fits of ill temper. He knew 
that they came from a loving and jealous nature, 
rendered over-sensitive by much suffering, and he 
never ceased to admire the superior intelligence, 
the noble and generous soul of her who remained 



The Margravine of Bayreuth 339 

to the end "my incomparable sister, my divine 
sister." 

She always came to her senses and accused her- 
self to her brother. Meanwhile her imagination 
ran away with her. She nursed her sorrows, real 
or false accused now one, now another, and vowed 
that she was the most unhappy princess in Chris- 
tendom, that she was pursued by an evil fate. 
Frederick William added to her woes by ordering 
her husband to join his regiment; a Prussian 
regiment must not thus be left to itself. He was 
forced to obey and then the Margravine became 
like one possessed. According to her sex's logic, 
she convinced herself that what she ardently de- 
sired was necessary; that she must also go to 
Berlin; that the Queen her mother was dying of 
impatience to see her; that the King, changed by 
her absence, would prove to be the tender and 
generous father which his letters seemed to prom- 
ise; that everybody would receive her with open 
arms and heap presents and attention upon her. 
Yet the Queen on learning of her intentions had 
written very plainly: "What business have you 
here? Is it possible that you should still believe 
in the King's promises, after having been so 
cruelly abandoned by him? Remain at home and 
spare us your perpetual lamentations; you might 
have expected all that has happened." The ad- 
vise, however brutally given, was wise, but the 
Princess turned a deaf ear to it. She managed 
to scrape together the necessary money, and 



340 Princesses and Court Ladies 

started for Berlin, where the most cruel disillu- 
sionment of her life awaited her. 

Sne arrived November i6, 1732, toward even- 
ing, preceded by a courier who was to give the 
Queen the good news and cause the whole palace 
to be filled with joy. When she stepped from 
her carriage there was no one to receive her. 
All was dark. Much disturbed, she went to her 
mother's room. The Queen on seeing her went 
forward, took her by the hand, and led her to her 
boudoir. ''She threw herself in an armchair 
without telling me to sit down. Looking at me 
severely, 'Why have you come here?' said she. 
My blood froze in my veins at these words. 'I 
have come,' I answered, 'on the King's commands, 
but especially to throw myself at the feet of a 
mother whom I adore and from whom it is cruel 
to be separated.' 'Say rather,' she continued, 
'that you have come to plunge a dagger in my 
heart and to prove to the world at large that you 
have been fool enough to marry a beggar. After 
such a step you should have remained at Bay- 
reuth so as to hide your shame there, instead of 
spreading it before us all. That is what I ordered 
you to do. The King will not help you and al- 
ready regrets his promises. I foresee that you 
will deafen us with your complaints, which will 
greatly annoy us, and that you will be a burden 
on us all.' " 

The heart of the poor Margravine was broken. 
She fell to the floor and sobbed as after a paternal 



The Margravine of Bayreuth 341 

whipping when she was a child. As soon as she 
was in a fit state to return to the Queen's room 
she made a show of embracing her former friends ; 
but they looked at her from top to toe without 
answering. Her favourite sister turned her into 
ridicule because of her shabby clothes. The 
King was not at Potsdam. She hastened to write 
to him. After all he had said in his own letters, 
she could not doubt of his joy at seeing her. He 
returned to Potsdam the following day. "He 
received me very coldly. 'Ha! ha!' said he, 'so. 
there you are. I am very glad to see you!' He 
took a light, examined his daughter, remarked 
that she was greatly changed, and added: 'How 
I pity you! You have not even bread, and but 
for me you would have to beg. But I am also 
but a poor man and cannot give you much. I 
will do what I can. According as I am able I 
will give you ten or twelve florins. That will 
help to lighten your misery.' " Frederick alone, 
whom the Margravine in her heart had accused 
of inconstancy, received her tenderly. He was 
even on good terms with his father; he did all he 
could for his sister and shared his purse with her. 
Curiously enough, after this fine reception, the 
King refused to allow his daughter and her hus- 
band to go back to Bayreuth. The Margrave was 
a tolerable colonel ; Frederick William kept him to 
his work. The King's personal expense amounted 
merely to the providing of food; but that had al- 
ways been a small item, and he had reduced it to 



342 Princesses and Court Ladies 

almost nothing. There was, as of yore, nothing 
much to eat at dinner, and supper was often sup- 
pressed. The Margrave, quite in vain, begged the 
King to give him at least a little cheese. The 
King refused and the prince ' ' grew visibly thinner." 
His wife almost fainted from sheer want. They 
implored to be allowed to go home, but without 
success. The summer of 1733 found them still 
in Berlin. The Margravine was pretty nearly 
spent when the festivities for Frederick's marriage 
with Elisabeth of Brunswick took place. 

Military reviews, as usual, formed the staple of 
the festivities ordered by Frederick William. On 
such days, the court was on foot before daybreak, 
and the ladies, in their gala dresses, often remained 
twelve hours on the grounds without so much ' ' as 
a glass of water." The Queen set a good example 
for she knew that her lord accepted no excuse 
when he condescended to show the ladies his sol- 
diers in all their glory. There were, therefore, two 
reviews, to which the King added a negro concert 
and a drive in open carriages, organised after a 
military fashion; the departure was fixed for such 
an hour; a certain road was to be taken; and the 
return was likewise fixed for a given time ; immedi- 
ately afterwards the ball was to take place. The 
display was immense and magnificent. The court 
and the nobility filled nearly one hundred open 
carriages ; the women were gaily decked ; the King 
led the show which traversed Berlin at a foot pace. 
A storm burst. The King did not change his 



The Margravine of Bayreuth 343 

orders ; rain never stops a marching army. Sheets 
of water fell on the ladies' curls, on their paint and 
powder. Hair and plumes hung about their faces, 
the rich dresses clung to them, and the procession 
still went on at a snail's pace. The procession was 
to last three hours; it lasted three hours, after 
which dancing began as soon as the ladies left their 
carriages. The Margravine, ten years later, could 
not without laughing allude to the appearance 
presented by the drenched ladies at this ball ; but 
it was too much for one, already worn out with 
misery and privations. She was stricken with 
fever and the doctors declared that she would die 
if she were not well fed and cared for. Yet Fred- 
erick William hesitated to let her go. He had 
inspected the Margrave's regiment and had found 
it admirably trained; this rendered the loss of its 
colonel hard to bear. When urged, he answered, 
''My son-in-law must be subjected to military 
duties and to economy." Frederick clearly used 
his influence in order to liberate his sister ; she and 
her husband wild with delight started for Bay- 
reuth August 23, 1733. They swore never again 
to be tempted away, but it was too late ; such vows 
are rarely made in good time. The Margravine 
never recovered from her visit to Berlin, and was 
an invalid for the rest of her life. 

VH 

When they reached Bayreuth, they understood 
how necessary was their presence. The old Mar- 



344 Princesses and Court Ladies 

grave was declining rapidly, his system was ruined, 
and his mind weakened by drink. One foot in 
the grave, he had still developed a senile passion 
for his granddaughter's governess, wore a new coat 
every day, had his hair dressed so as to appear 
young, and was most gallant. The Margravine 
could hardly believe her eyes when she found her 
father-in-law changed into a beau. "He was all 
day long with his beloved," she says, "to whom 
he made very moral declarations, and was content 
to suck her fingers." But these caresses soon 
proved insufficient and he proposed marriage. 
The Margravine broke off this union, the day be- 
fore it was to be declared, by menacing the future 
bride with her anger. But an old man's love is 
tenacious; that of the Margrave grew in violence 
the more he sank into the vague dreams of second 
childhood ; every one saw that the fat face of Flora, 
the governess, was each day more indispensable to 
him. Drunkenness brought the comedy to an end. 
The old Margrave died in 1735, just when Flora 
had made up her mind to brave all menaces and 
marry him. 

The following years were interesting for the 
principality, but would be less so for the reader. 
The Margravine restored her castles, renewed her 
furniture, gave entertainments, and Bayreuth 
took on quite another aspect. The nobility by 
degrees lost its grotesqueness, the traces of bar- 
barism were effaced, and this little country was 
caught up by the movement of renovation which 



The Margravine of Bayreuth 345 

swayed all Germany. Frederick II notes the 
change very forcibly in the picture of Europe 
which opens the History of My Time. The Ger- 
man nation, says he, was a prey to the "gothic 
taste" for drunkenness and coarseness, resem- 
bling, so to speak, a field only just harrowed. 
The rough field became once more a "garden." 
"Riches, augmented by commerce and industry, 
have brought the pleasures and comforts of life, 
and perhaps also those disorders inseparable from 
them. For the last century, year by year, the 
number of equipages, the expenses for clothes, 
liveries, living, furniture, have increased greatly." 
Frederick feared that the change might be too 
sudden. He would have preferred to have his 
people preserve for a time at least, the habits of 
economy practised by the former generation, and 
in his visits to his sister at Bayreuth, he insisted 
upon this. "You do not need so many people 
about you," he would say to her. "I advise you 
to break up your court and to live like simple 
gentlefolk. At Berlin you had but four dishes 
for dinner; you do not need more, now." The 
Margravine, at these sermons, would weep, quite 
persuaded that her brother no longer loved her, 
for she adored luxury and, unfortunately, she 
could not forget that she had been on the eve of 
becoming queen of several great countries. 

At Berlin, old Frederick William resisted the 
new spirit with all his might and main, and it 
was time he gave up his throne; he was becoming 



346 Princesses and Court Ladies 

ridiculous. His great work, the Prussian army, 
by dint of being put in a bandbox, was becoming 
ridiculous also. It was so well understood that 
he would never accept a war that, relates his son, 
"his allies treated him with as little ceremony as 
his enemies." Great and small monarchs openly 
expressed their contempt for him. "The Prussian 
officers, exposed to every contumely, had become 
the laughing stock of the world; when they 
pressed in recruits in the imperial towns, accord- 
ing to the right of all electors, they were arrested 
and thrown into prison; the least among the 
princes took pleasure in insulting Prussians; even 
the Bishop of Liege heaped humiliations on the 
King."* The old Margrave of Bayreuth himself 
snarled, a little while before he died, because a 
Prussian officer had snapped up a giant in his 
states, and, almost at the same time, the Dutch 
shot without so much as a trial a Prussian officer 
commanding a press gang, who had been caught 
on their territory. Frederick William's subjects 
were beginning to be very "sore" at the "igno- 
miny attached to the name of Prussians." 

The King's exit from this world at least was 
not ridiculous. All there was of good and of bad 
in him showed vividly at the last moment, making 
his death both singular and heroic. It was in the 
month of May, 1740. Frederick William was 
dying of dropsy. Ecclesiastics took advantage of 
the moment to exhort him to a reconciliation 

» History of My Time. Chap. II. 



The Margravine of Bayreuth 347 

with a relative. "Your Majesty must write to 
him, saying that all the wrong he has done is 
forgiven. " The King was pious. ' ' Very well," said 
he, at last, "write the letter; only, if I recover, do 
not deliver it; it must be sent only in case I 
should die." On the 31st of May he felt very 
ill, and caused himself to be wheeled to the 
Queen's room; she was asleep. He awoke her, 
telling her to dress as he was about to die. Then 
he visited the royal princes, one after the other, 
politely taking leave of them. When he returned 
to his own room, he summoned his ministers and 
all the generals and colonels present in Berlin, 
and before them gave up all authority into the 
hands of the prince royal, made a little speech on 
the duty of sovereigns toward their subjects, then 
ordered every one to retire. 

As soon as all had left, he sent word to give new 
uniforms to his great regiment, and peacefully 
awaited death, having before his mind's eye a 
vision of giant grenadiers, parading with immacu- 
late uniform and shining arms. He was asked to 
allow the ecclesiastics to enter. He declared that 
' ' he knew all they could say to him, therefore they 
might as well go away." He died that day. His 
generals mourned for him, his people did not. His 
son Frederick announced his death to the Margra- 
vine in these words: "My very dear sister, the 
good God took, yesterday, at three o'clock, our 
dear father to Himself. He died with angelic 
courage and without much suffering. ' ' The brother 



348 Princesses and Court Ladies 

and sister showed a decent amount of sorrow and 
were quickly consoled, as was their right. The 
memory left by this terrible father resembled a 
nightmare. Frederick II, twenty years later, often 
dreamed that Frederick William entered his room, 
followed by soldiers whom he ordered to bind his 
son and throw him into prison. "And I would 
wake bathed in perspiration, as though I had been 
plunged into the river." Even by day he would 
dream of it. "In the midst of the pleasures I 
enjoy, my father's image arises before me to 
weaken them." 

The Margravine, on her side, forgot nothing. 
Her Memoirs are the proof of this. They stop in 
1742, and we must stop with them. The end of 
Princess Wilhelmina's life was absorbed by her 
devotion to her brother, and this has been revealed 
to us especially through their correspondence. 
Here opens a new phase of German history, other 
times, other faces, another tone; sentiments, art, 
and politics have taken the place of life and man- 
ners. To follow the Margravine further would be 
quite another study, and has already been done.^ 
We even regret that Wilhelmina should not, earlier, 
have put down her pen, or that she neglected to 
tear from her manuscript the pages written during 
her bitterness against her brother. She acknowl- 
edged her fault in a noble and tender letter, and 
Frederick always refused to see in this beloved 
sister anything but her noble heart, her great cour- 

1 Sainte-Beuve, Causeries du Lundi. 



The Margravine of Bayreuth 349 

age, and her "genius." The Memoirs remained 
intact and show the pettiness which is but the alloy 
of a generous nature. 

It is true that this alloy renders her singularly 
living and — I add under my breath — very at- 
tractive. Perfect people are a bit monotonous; 
the little Margravine in ill health, jealous and 
malicious, interests us at all times, in all her moods. 
Her soul was quivering and passionate, her mind 
bold and frank, her temper lively and violent, her 
heart imperious in its demands. Whether we 
praise or blame her, we must confess that she was 
truly a woman even more than a princess ; yet, she 
was a princess to the tips of her fingers. It is her 
womanly side that appears in the pamphlet in two 
volumes which has been so bitterly criticised, and 
yet which it would be a great pity not to possess, 
for the court of Frederick William and that of the 
old Margrave of Bayreuth form pictures which are 
unique of their kind. It was as a princess that 
she wrote in 1757, at the time of the Prussian re- 
verses, that she was resolved to kill herself should 
her brother set the example, and Frederick under- 
stood this thoroughly when he wrote : " I have not 
the heart to dissuade you. We think alike." 
Events changed Frederick's determination to "fin- 
ish the play, ' ' but the Margravine was soon to have 
no choice in the matter. For a long time past she 
had been a mere shadow of herself. She expired 
October 14, 1758, the day of the battle of Hoch- 
kirchen. There can be no more beautiful funeral 



35° Princesses and Court Ladies 

oration than that which Frederick the Great un- 
consciously gave in his attitude after his defeat 
and on learning of her death. 

On the 14th of October, after the battle, the 
King called his reader, Henry of Catt, and received 
him with a calm face, reciting the speech of the 
defeated Mithridates, which he modified for the 
occasion. 

" Je suis vaincu. Daunus^ a saisi I'avantage 
D'une nuit qui laissait peu de place au courage, etc." 

On the 17 th of October, a messenger brought 
the news of the Margravine's death. Henry of 
Catt again was summoned. Frederick II was sob- 
bing like a child and was several minutes without 
being able to utter a word. For more than a year 
he had but one cry, in the midst of his tears, "In 
losing her I have lost everything." This exclamxa- 
tion absolves the Margravine for all her faults and 
her errors. Happy the woman who can say to 
herself that, at her death, some human being will 
utter those words : " I have lost everything. ' ' 

' Count of Davin, who commanded the Austrians at Hochkirchen. 



INDEX 



Aden, Princess Salm6 sails to, 

20I. 

Adolphus, Gustavus, king of 

Sweden, 73 ; reputation of, 76 ; 

death of, 77; book of, on 

governing, 82. 
Alberoni, connection of, with 

the Cellamare plot, 257. 
Almanack de I'Annee 1712, 

written by Madame du Maine, 

273- 

Amazon, Christina of Sweden 
wished to be considered an, 
123. 

Anatolia, the road to, mentioned, 
162. 

Ancenis, Monsieur d', arrests 
Madame du Maine, 263. 

Anchin, abbey of, in Flanders, 
267. 

Anne of Austria, queen of 
France, 17; correspondence 
of, with Mazarin, 18; dislike 
of, to Marie Mancini, 23; op- 
position of, to Marie Mancini, 
3 2 ; powerful assistance of, 
to Mazarin, 44; meets Chris- 
tina of Sweden, 124. 

Anti Lucrece l', written in hon- 
our of Madame du Maine, 241 . 

Antin, the Duke d', Memoirs 
of, 254. 

Antwerp, representation of 
Christina of Sweden at, 116. 

Apologie, written by Marie 
Mancini, 14. 

Arab astrologer consulted by 
Marie Mancini, 43. 

Arab maiden, daily life of , 161. 

Arab Princess, Mem.oirs of, 148. 
(See Ruete, Frau Emilie.) 

Arab woman, life of, at Zanzi- 
bar, 178. 



Augustus, Elector of Saxony 
and King of Poland, a suitor 
of Princess Wilhelmina's, 312; 
character of, 313. 

Aulaire, Monsieur de Saint, 
celebrated for his verse, 275. 

Aulnoy, Madame d', describes 
the life of Marie Mancini at 
Madrid, 67. 

Aurora Pavilion, situated in the 
park at Sceaux, 232. 

Austria, relation of, to Ger- 
many in 1729, 317. 

Autobiography of Christina of 
Sweden, confessions in the, 

85, 145- 

Azz6, head bibi to Sultan Sejjid 
Said, 153. 

Azzolini, Cardinal Dece, em- 
ployment of, as steward to 
Christina of Sweden, 136; 
persuades Christin of Swe- 
den to sign her testament, 144. 



B 



Bargasch, Sejjid, Sultan of Zan- 
zibar, in 1875, 205. 

Bayreuth, the Margrave of, an 
impecunious noble of Prussia, 
325; marriage of, to Princess 
Wilhelmina of Prussia, 330 ; 
character of, 330; the wedding 
banquet of, 332; enters the 
military service of Frederick 
William, 340; return of, to his 
home, 343. 

Bayreuth, the Margravine of. 
Memoirs of, 288; called Wil- 
helmina, bom July 3, 1709, 
290; the early impressions of, 
295; character of, 296; rem- 
iniscences of the youth of, 
298; hardship and starvation 



3SI 



35'^ 



Index 



of, 299; becomes a highly ed- 
ucated woman, 301 ; affection 
of, for her brother, 302; the 
sentimentality of, 304 ; person- 
alities of, 306; indifference of, 
toward her first fiance, 310; 
the feeling of, for King Augus- 
tus, 315; her life a martyrdom 
at her father's court, 318; 
attacked by Frederick Wil- 
liam, 322; the marriage of, 
discussed, 324; consent of, 
to marry Margrave of Bay- 
reuth, 328; the wedding jour- 
ney of , January 1 1 , 1732,333; 
correspondence of, with Fred- 
erick William, 338 ff.; return 
of, to Berlin, November 16, 
1732, 340; return of, to her 
husband's domain, 343; end 
of the Memoirs, 1742, 348; 
death of, October 14, 1758,349. 

Bayreuth, the principality of, 
330; arrival of the bridal pair 
at, 334; condition of the es- 
tate of, 335. 

Beauvais, Madame de, intrigues 

of, II. 

Beauveau, Marquis de, Memoirs 
of, 50. 

Bee, the order of the, founded 
by the Duchess of Maine, 236. 

Benserade, letter to, from Chris- 
tina of Sweden, 108. 

Berlin, the Margravine of Bay- 
reuth returns to, November 
16, 1732, 340. 

Bernard, Samuel, works of, 82. 

Berry, the Duke of, death of, 
July, 1 7 14, 243. 

Bet-il-Mtoui, palace of, near 
Zanzibar, 150. 

Bet-il-Sahel, castle of Sultan 
Sejjid Said, 154; bustle and 
confusion at, 184. 

JBibi, legitimate wives of the 
Sultan, 153. 

Bievre, the River, flows near the 
castle of Sceaux, 233. 

Billarderie, La, Lieutenant, 
orders to, concerning the 
arrest of Madame du Maine, 
264; conduct toward his pris- 
oner, 265 ff. 



Birth, customs at, in Arabia, 
165. 

Blanc, Monsieur le, Secretary 
of State, letter to, June 30, 
1719, 266. 

Boisrobert, Abbe de, the mad- 
rigals of, 134. 

Bohemia, condition of the coun- 
try, 294. 

Bonrepos, Monsieur de, for- 
gotten in the Bastille, 271. 

Bouillon, Duchess of, banish- 
ment of from court, 71. 

Bourbon, Anne Louise Bene- 
dicte de, bom in 1676, grand- 
daughter of Prince Conde, 210 
ff. {See Maine, the Duchess 
of.) 

Bourbon, Duchess of, sister-in- 
law of the Duchess of Maine, 
216. 

Bourdelot, the Sens barber at 
the Court of Christina, 102; 
character of, 103 ff.; takes 
charge of Christina of Sweden, 
104 ; the great triumph of, 106 ; 
great influence of, 109. 

Brienne, Monsieur de, Mem.oirs 
of, 22. 

Brigault, Abbe, position of, on 
committee of conspirators, 
257; confession of, 260. 

Brinon, Madame de, letter to, 
March 25, 1692, from Mad- 
ame de Maintenon, 219; letter 
to, August 13, 1693, 221. 

Brouage, castle of, Marie Man- 
cini at, 39. 

Burgundy, the Duke of, death 
of, July, 1 7 14, 243. 

Brussels, Christina of Sweden 
at, 115. 



Carrero, Porto, Abb^, detained 
at Poitiers, 258. 

Casimir, John, abdication of, 
140. 

Catholic faith, public profession 
of, November 3, 1655, by 
Christina of Sweden, 116. 

Catt, Henry of, reader for Fred- 
erick II, 350. 



Index 



353 



Caylus, Madame de, niece of 
Madame de Maintenon, 214. 

Cellamare, the plot of, 257. 

Chantelauze, Monsieur, opin- 
ions of, 25. 

Chantilly, Louis XIV at, 39; 
the Duchess of Maine's early 
residence at, 212. 

Chanut, Monsieur, a friend of 
Christina of Sweden, 133. 

Charles Augustus, heir to Chris- 
tina of Sweden, no. 

Charles XI, successor of Charles 
Augustus, to crown of Swe- 
den, 137. 

Charles of Lorraine, Prince, love 
of, for Marie Mancini, 50, 52 

Chatelet, Madame du, visit 
of, to Madame du Maine, 
August 15, 1747, 276; on the 
stage, 278. 

Chatenay, the coufitry seat of 
Mal^zieu, 229. 

Chatillon, Madame de, inter- 
est of Louis XIV in, 1 1 . 

Chevreuse, Madame de, con- 
fidante of Anne of Austria, 

17- ^ 

Chigi, Flavio, cardinal, becomes 
enamoured of Marie Mancini, 
56. 

Choisy, Abb^, Memoirs of, 31; 
version of, on the contest be- 
tween Mazarin and Marie 
Mancini, 45. 

Chole, the beautiful, daughter 
of Sejjid Said, 190. 

Christina of Sweden, character 
of, 73; bom, December 8, 
1626, 74; under guardianship 
of regency council, 78; educa- 
tion of, 82 ff.; physique of, 84: 
opinion of herself, 86 ; reaches 
her majority, 87 ; deplorable 
education of, 93 ; virtue of, 96 ; 
court of, 98; library of, 99; 
represented as Minerva, Diana, 
and Victory, 100; offered to 
abdicate, October 25, 165 1, 
102; the sudden change in 
character of, 105; abandon- 
ment of studies by, 107 ; wrath 
of the people against, 109; de- 
termination of, to abdicate. 



February 11, 1654, no; en- 
treated to remain, 112; as- 
sumption of man's clothes, 
113; various episodes in the 
travels of, 115 ff.; public pro- 
fession of Catholic faith, No- 
vember 3, 1655, 116; entry 
into Rome of, iz8 ff.; despoiled 
of her library, 121; arrival of, 
at Paris, 124; meeting of, with 
Anne of Austria, 125; advises 
Louis XIV to marry Marie 
Mancini, 127 ; participation of, 
in death of Marquess Monal- 
deschi, i2g ff.; departure from 
Paris of, 134; pension from 
Sweden fails, 135; demand of, 
from Germany, for twenty 
thousand men to invade Swe- 
den, 136; lack of finances of, 
137; disputes the succession 
to crown of Sweden, 138; in- 
trigues of, for throne of Po- 
land, 139; suffers an attack of 
erysipelas in 1688, 143; death 
of, April 19, 1689, 144. 

Circassian mother of Princess 
Salme, 164. 

Civita Vecchia, visited by Marie 
Mancini and her sister, 59. 

Clagny, the castle of, built by 
Louis XIV, 228. 

Colonna, Conn^table, proposal 
of, to Marie Mancini, 47 ; mar- 
ries Marie Mancini, 53 ; love 
of, for his wife, 55. 

Colonna, Madame. (5e^ Mancini; 
Marie.) 

Compiegne, Christina joins Louis 
XIV of France at, 124. 

Contte de Boursoufle, written by 
Voltaire, 278. 

Conspirators, committees of , 2 5 7 . 

Conti, Prince of, married in 1652, 
21. 

Copper money, used in Sweden , 
90. 

Correggio, pictures of, 100. 

Costumes, worn by Arab wom- 
en, 180. 

Courart, Memoirs of, 134. 

Court of Christina of Sweden, 98. 

Court of Louis XIV, description 
of, 226, 



354 



Index 



Cottrtiers, at Bayreuth, the rus- 
tic appearances of, 336. 

Crequi, the Duke of, messenger 
of Louis XIV, to Marie Man- 
cini, 63. 

Customs, primitive form of, in 
Sweden, 89. 



D 



Declaration, the, of Madame du 
Maine, 269 ; read at the council 
of the regency, 270. 

Decree of 1 7 1 7 , against the Duke 
and Duchess of Maine, 353. 

Deflfand, Madame du, letter to, 
278. 

Djohar, chief of the eunuchs, 
190. 

Denmark, Christina of Sweden 
in, 113. 

Dresden, Frederick William vis- 
its, in 1728, 313. 

Dubois, Abb^, spies in the ser- 
vice of, 356. 

Dunkerque, siege of, 1658, 6. 



E 



Edward of Bavaria, the daugh- 
ter of, mother to the Duchess 
of Maine, 212. 

Eleanore of Olbreuse, grand- 
mother of Wilhelmina of 
Prussia, 291. 

Elisabeth of Brunswick be- 
comes the wife of Frederick 
II of Prussia, 342. 

Enclos, Ninon de 1', Christina of 
Sweden visits, 127. 

Estr^es, Madame d', death of, 
in 1747, 283. 

Eugene of Carignan, Prince, 
married in 1657, 21. 



Faubourg Saint Antoine, gate 
of, entrance at, of Christina of 
Sweden, September 8, 1656, 
124. 



Fayette, Madame de La, version 
of, on Marie Mancini's depar- 
ture, 39. 

Ferdinand, Emperor, mentioned, 
76. 

Financial crisis, in Sweden, 92 ff. 

Fontainebleau, the Court of 
Louis XIV at, 23, 51. 

Fontevrault, the Abbess of, ad- 
vice sought of, 217. 

France, influence of ,on Sweden, 97. 

Frederick II, crown prince of 
Prussia, 291 ; great fear of, for 
his father, 300; affection of, 
for his sister, 302 ff.; determi- 
nation of, to leave the coun- 
try, 319 ; confides in his 
friend Katt, 319 ff.; arrest of, 
reported, 320 ; his papers 
destroyed, 321 ; prosecution 
against, 326; grief at the loss 
of Katt, 328; continued ad- 
miration of, for his sister, 339; 
marriage of, to Elisabeth of 
Brunswick, in 1733, 342; 
writes the History of My 
Time, 345 ; later letters of, to 
his sister, 347. 

Frederick William I, second 
king of Prussia, 290; charac- 
ter of, 291; amount of the 
fortune of, 293; avarice of, 
295; rough discipline of, 297; 
scarcity of food at the court 
of, 298; weaknesses of, 300; 
his antipathy for all writings, 
301 ; opinion of, on his daugh- 
ter's marriage, 308; religious 
mania of, 310; anger turns to 
delirium in 1729, 316; is re- 
duced to a rolling chair, 318; 
sentiments of, toward his son- 
in-law, 331 ; lack of generosity 
of, 333 ; pleas of, for his daugh- 
ter's return, 337; reception of, 
for Wilhelmina, 341 ; great 
success of, with Prussian 
army, 346; death of. May 31, 

1740, 347- 
French ideas and fashions in 

Germany, 316. 
Fromentin, Eugene, describes 

death of Haoua, 179. 
Fronde, the period of, 1647, 2. 



Index 



355 



Gamache, wedding feast at, i86. 

Genest, Ahh6, preserved a vol- 
ume of poems in honour of the 
Duchess of Maine, 233. 

George I, king of England, the 
prerogatives of, 309. 

German customs, compared to 
French ones, 316. 

Gibertiere, Monsieur de La, en- 
voy of Louis XIV, 63. 

Gloucester, the Duke, engage- 
ment of, to Princess Wilhel- 
mina, 308. 

Great Nights of Sceaux, the ori- 
gin of, 238. 

Groot, Peter de, ambassador 
from Holland, 139. 

Guise, the Duke of, meeting of, 
with Christina of Sweden, 122. 

Guyenne, Queen Eleanor of, 193, 



H 



Hamburg, visited by Christina 
of Sweden, 113; entered by 
Christina, August 18, 1660, 
138. 

Hamdam, a brother to Princess 
Salme, 172. 

Haoua, the Moorish woman, 
death of, 179. 

Hindoo workmen, in Zanzibar, 
182. 

Hochkirchen, battle of, October 

14, 1758, 349- 
Houdard, La Motte, mentioned, 

284. 
Houses of France, important, 

discontinuation of, 72. 
Huet, bishop of Avranches, at 

the Court of Christina, 97. 
Hymettus, Mount, the bees of, 

236. 



Ines de Castro, written by La 
Motte, 276. 

Infanta of Spain, the, 25; con- 
nection of, with Louis XIV of 
France, 32; marriage of, to 
Louis XIV, 52. 



Innocent XI, Pope, quarrel of, 
with Christina of Sweden, 142 . 

Inspruck, Christina of Sweden 
at, 116. 

Islamism, simplicity of, 164. 

K 

Katt, "Fritz," a friend of Fred- 
erick II, arrested, 323; exe- 
cution of, 328. 

Kibibi, diminutive. (See bibi.) 

"King of Snow," name applied 
to Gustavus Adolphus, 76. 

Koran, important position of 
the, in Arabian schools, 174. 

Kustrin, tragedy of, 303. 



La Fayette, Madame de, de- 
scribes Marie Mancini, 9. {See 
Fayette.) 

Lakanostrophos, a brook cross- 
ing the park of Sceaux, 274. 

La Motte, a lover of Madame 
du Maine, 275. 

La Prude, written by Voltaire, 
280. 

Laval, Count of, 257. 

Le Bel, Father, summoned by 
Christina of Sweden, Novem- 
ber 6, 1657, 129; description 
of, on the death of Marquess 
Monaldeschi, 129 ff.; implora- 
tions of, to save Monaldes- 
chi 's life, 131. 

L6ti, Mademoiselle, governess 
to Princess Wilhelmina, 297. 

Lorraine, Chevalier de, exiled 
from France, 57. 

Louis XIV, king of France, the 
illness of 1658, 10; great 
friendship of, for Marie Man- 
cini, 13; coronation of. May 
14, 1643, 16; friendship of, 
becomes love for Marie Man- 
cini, 33; becomes enamoured 
of the Infanta of Spain, 49; 
marriage of, to the Spanish 
princess, June 6, 1660, 49; 
visit of, to Brouage, 50; 
method adopted by, for en- 
tertainments, 220; death of, 
September i, 1715, 248. 



356 



Index 



Ludolf , Job, author of works on 

Ethiopia, loi. 
Luis de Haro, Don, minister to 

Spain in 1659, 34. 
Lutheran catechism, committed 

to memory by Christina, 64. 
Lutzen, battle of, November 6, 

1632, 78. 
Luynes, the Duke of, Memotrs 

of, 241; description of, on the 

death of Madame du Maine, 

285. 
Lyons, Christina of Sweden at, 



M 



Madrid, sojourn of Marie Man- 
cini at, 47 

Madjid, Sultan of Zanzibar, 199, 

Magistrates, illiteracy of, in 
Sweden, 89. 

Magnus of Gardie, Count, a fav- 
otirite of Christina, 96; end of 
his popularity, 97. 

Mahometan, characteristics of 
a, 164. 

Maine, the Duchess of, 210; 
bom in 1676, 210; diminutive 
stature of, 213; married the 
Duke of Maine on March 18, 
1692, at the age of fifteen and 
a half, 217; radical departure 
of, from court etiquette, 222; 
considered pretty, 224; as- 
pirations of, 227 ff.; visit of, 
to Malezieu, 230; entry of, 
into Sceaux, 232 ; great vanity 
of, 240 ; the vow of, to become 
the most important person- 
age in the kingdom, 241 ; 
plans of, for her husband to 
obtain the regency at death 
of Louis XIV, 246 ; arrival of, 
at the Tuileries, 249; defeat 
of, 256; part taken in Cellamare 
plot, 257; arrest of, 261; con- 
dition of, in prison, 266; the 
public confession of, 269; re- 
turn to Sceaux, January, 
1720, 270; personified by 
Venus, 273; the acquaintance 
of, with Voltaire, 276; ap- 
pears on the stage in Vol- 



taire's plays, 280 ff.; continued 
diversions of, 283; death of, 
January 23, 1753, 285. 

Maine, the Duke of, contem- 
plates matrimony, 213; ille- 
gitimate offspring of Madam 
de Montespan, 214; early life 
of, 215; becomes heir to the 
Grande Mademoiselle, 216; 
purchases the castle of 
Sceaux, December 20, 1699, 
231 ; awe of, for his wife, 237; 
advancements of, 242 ; de- 
creed successor to the crown 
of France July, 17 14, 243; 
desertion of, by the troops, 
247; becomes tutor for Louis 
XV instead of regent, 248 ff.; 
despair of, at the decree of 
1717. 253; loss of all sem- 
blance of power of, 255 ; arrest 
of, 261. 

Maintenon, Madame de, wrote 
of Louis XIV in 1705, 12; 
care of, for the Duke of Maine 
in childhood, 214. 

Malezieu, Monsieur de, ex- tutor 
of Monsieur du Main, 229; 
the arrest of, at Sceaux, 268. 

Mancini, Laure, Duchess of Mer- 
coeur, 4. 

Mancini, Marie, the appearance 
of, at the Court of Louis XIV, 
i; in Paris, 1653, 3, 9; charac- 
teristics of, 9 ff.; Louis XIV, 
becomes enamoured with, 12; 
the Apologie of, 14; becomes 
confidante and adviser to the 
king, 16; ambitions of, 21 ff.; 
characteristics of, 31; de- 
parture of, to Brouage, 39; 
wonderful power of, 43 ; learns 
of an agreement on the Span- 
ish marriage of Louis XIV, 
46; becomes a mere adven- 
turess, 50; refused permission 
to marry Lorraine, 52; be- 
comes wife of Connetable 
Colonna, 53 ; first child bom 
to. 55; jealousy of, for Colon- 
na, 57 ff. ; flight of, from Rome, 
May 29, 1672, 59; incidents 
of the flight of, 60 ff.; is 
placed in a convent at Melun, 



Index 



357 



64; degradation of, 65 ff.; at 
Madrid, 67; return of, to 
France in 1684, 70; travels to 
Italy in 1705, 71; probable 
death of in 1715, in Italy or 
Spain , 72. 

Mancini, Olympe, Countess of 
Soissons, 8; marriage of, to 
Prince Eugene of Carignan, 
1657, 21. 

Manechini, Captain, overtakes 
Marie Mancini, 61. 

Manuscripts collected by Chris- 
tina of Sweden despoiled, 121. 

Marguerite of Savoie, Princess, 
projected union of, with Louis 
XIV, 24. 

Marie Th6rese, Princess of Conti, 
213. 

Martinozzi, Anne-Marie, Prin- 
cess of Conti, 4; marriage of, 
to Prince of Conti, 1652, 21. 

Martinozzi, Laure, duchess of 
Modena, 4. 

Mary Eleonore, queen of Swe- 
den, mother of Christina of 
Sweden, 74; lack of judgment 
of, 75; sorrow of, at death of 
Adolphus, yg ff. 

Mascat, the white asses of, 152. 

Matthiae, John, tutor and pro- 
fessor for Christina of Sweden, 

79- 

Mazarin, Cardinal, the nieces of, 
2 ; characteristics of the family 
of, 3 ff., enormous fortune of, 
5 ; early years of, 7 ; correspon- 
dence of, with Anne of Aus- 
tria, 17 ff.; reports concerning 
marriage of, to Anne of 
Austria, 19; lack of prudence 
of, 23 ; romance of, with 
Louis XIV, 28; threatens to 
retire to Italy, 41; inspired 
antipathy among the nobles, 
45 ; change of attitude of, to- 
ward Marie Mancini, 48; death 
of, March 9, 1661, 54; re- 
ception of, for Christina of 
Sweden , 122. 

Mazarin, Duchess of, the Mem- 
oirs of, 66; death of, 71. 

Mazarin, family of, in France, 16 
dispersion of, 71. 



Medal, of Christina, as Minerva, 
100. 

Medde, a sort of mattress, men- 
tioned, 179. 

Medici, Cardinal, palace of, 
bombarded by Christina of 
Sweden, 120. 

Meilleraye, Duke de La, mar- 
riage of, to Hortense, niece of 
Mazarin, 53. 

Melun, convent at, Marie Man- 
cini placed in, 64. 

Modena, Duchess of, 1655, 21; 
death of, 71. 

Monaldeschi, Marquess, grand 
equerry, 128; murder of, 132. 

Montargis, Christina of Sweden 
spends the night at, 127. 

MontecucuUi, General, of Ger- 
many, 136. 

Montespan, Madame de, mother 
of the Duke of Maine, 213. 

Montglat, Memoirs of, 112. 

Montpensier, Mademoiselle de, 
Memoirs of, 32; confidante of 
Christina of Sweden, 124. 

Montpensier, Monsieur de. Mem- 
oirs of, 50. 

Motteville, Madame de, accuses 
Mazarin, 1658, 6; version of, 
on Marie Mancini's departure, 

39- ^, 
Motteville, Mademoiselle de, 

describes meeting between 

Christina of Sweden and Anne 

of Austria. 124. 
Mussulman, fasting of the, 187. 



N 



Nattier, portrait of Madame du 
Maine painted by, 225. 

Nevers, Duke of, a brilliant 
scatter-brain , 21. 

Notre Dame, Christina of Swe- 
den receives holy communion 
at, 124. 

Noves, Laura of, mentioned, 

193- 
Nuremberg, fortifications at, 

293- 
Nymph of Sceaux, a nickname 
given to Madame du Maine, 
233- 



358 



Index 



o 



Odin, mythological god, 76. 

Oman, the thoroughbreds of, 
152. 

Orleans, Monsieur d', a prophecy 
concerning, 242 ; aspirations 
of, for the regency, 244; re- 
views the troops, August 23, 
1715, 247; elected regent, 
September 2, 1715, 248; 
causes the arrest of the Duke 
and Duchess of Maine, 261 ff. 

Oxenstiem, Chancellor, regent 
of Sweden, 78; political policy 
of, 92. 



Pancrace, Doctor, mentioned, 
89. 

Patin, Guy, writes of Bourdelot, 
no. 

Perfumery used by Arab wom- 
en, 183. 

Plague, damage wrought by, 

293- 
Poissonnet, Clairet, first valet 

of the chamber to Christina 

of Sweden, 97. 
Polignac, Cardinal de, 257; exile 

to his abbey of Anchin in 

Flanders, 267. 
Polish Diet, alarmed at the can- 
didature of Christina of Swe- 
den, 140. 
Pomerania, hope of Christina of 

Sweden to conquer, 136. 
Pompadour, the Marquess of, 

257 ; the confession of, 268 ; the 

pardon of, 270. 
Pont Royal, the council held 

under the, 256. 
Porta del Populo, situated on 

the Tiber, the bathing place 

of Madame Colonna, 58 ^. 
Potsdam, Princess Wilhelmina 

bom at, July 3, 1709, 290; 

council of war at, 327. 
Prince, Monsieur le, father of 

the Duchess of Maine, 211; 

a veritable ogre, 213. 
Prussia, first appearance upon 

the world's stage, 295; dislike 



of the people of, for the later- 
year methods of Frederick 
William, 346. 

Purgon, Monsieur, jokes dedi- 
cated to, 273. 

Pyrenees, treaty of, 17, 53. 

R 

Ramadan, the fasting time of 
the, 187; a perpetual carouse, 
188. 

Regency council, training of, 78. 

Ren^e, Monsieur Am^d^e, opin- 
ion of, on Mazarin, 72. 

Richelieu, Cardinal, characteris- 
tics of, 17. 

Rhine wine, used extensively in 
Sweden, 90. 

Rome, Christina of Sweden vis- 
its, 118; plague at, 128. 

Rome Sauvee, successfully acted 
in November, 1794, 281. 

Reute, Frau Emilie, Memoir <;ot, 
148; born in Zanzibar about 
1844, 149; christened Prin- 
cess Salm^, 150. {See Salm^, 
Princess.) 

Ruete, Herr, death of, 158; ap- 
pearance of, in Arabia, 200. 



Said, Sejjid, Iman of Muscat, 
sultan of Zanzibar, 149; the 
harems of, 150; description of, 
152. 

Sainte-Beuve, critical instinct 
of, 288. 

Saint Dorothea, Christina buried 
from, 145. 

Saint Jean d'Ang^ly, Louis 
XIV and Marie Mancini meet 
at, August 10, 1659, 24. 

Saint-Jean-de-Luz, Mazarin at, 

17. 34- 

Saint-Simon, judgment of, on 
Marie Mancini, 8; denounces 
Mazarin, 45. 

Saint-Simon, Madame de, 237. 

Salm6 {See Ruete, Frau Emilie), 
compares European and Arab 
customs, 1 56; the German and 
Christian education of, 157; 
arguments of, 163 ; children of, 
166; early life of, in Arabic, 



Index 



359 



168 ff.; life at school, 175; hard- 
ships of, 178; Princess, photo- 
graph of, 181 ; describes the 
return of the fleet, 186 ff.; 
irritation of, 193; witnesses 
the departure of Sejjid Said, 
197; departure of, to Aden, 
201; becomes Frau Ruete, 
201; hope of, to return to 
Arabia, 205 ; return to Arabia, 
207. 

Sarari, illegitimate wives of the 
sultan, 153. 

Scandinavia, mythology of, 76. 

Sceaux, the court of the Duchess 
of Maine at, 210; purchased 
by the Duke of Maine, 231; 
built by Perrault, 232 ; amuse- 
ments at, 234 ff. ; Madame du 
Maine returned to, January, 
1720, 270. 

Scheie, a name for drapery in 
Arabia, 195. 

Schwedt, the Margrave of, sug- 
gested as husband for Prin- 
cess Wilhelmina, 325. 

Seckendorf, the Austrian envoy, 
attempt of, to make Prussia 
and England quarrel, 309. 

Senate of Sweden educates the 
queen, 80. 

Sentinelli, Count, captain of the 
guard of Christina of Sweden, 
128; murders Monaldeschi, 
132. 

Sibyl of the North, name ap- 
plied to Christina of Sweden 
in France, 122. 

Soissons, Duchess of, departure 
from France of, January, 
1680, 71. 

"Sons of Cats," nickname for 
children of Circassians, 167. 

Sophia Dorothea, queen of Prus- 
sia, 290; kind and generous 
disposition of, 290, character 
of, 291; her just pride of 
birth, 304; demands of, for a 
worthy alliance for her daugh- 
ter, 307; prevents her hus- 
band from committing sui- 
cide, 316; gives a ball for her 
daughter, 320; aid of, to her 
son, 321. 



Spain, negotiations with, in 
1659, 34. 

St. Honor^, rue, Madame du 
Maine arrested at, 263. 

Staal, Madame de, describes 
Madame du Maine, 223; opin- 
ion of, 229; describes the over- 
throw of the Duke and Duch- 
ess of Maine, 255 ^. ; liberation 
of, 271. 

Stockholm, capital of Sweden, 
appearance of, in 1650, 90 ff. 

Suhur, Arabian supper, 188. 

Surie, members of a harem in 
Arabia, 170. 

Sweden, pride of, for Christina, 
81 ff.; government of, 82; 
court of, under Christina, 
109. 



Thirty Years' War, disastrous 
extent of, 289, 293. 

Throne of France, deemed with- 
in reach of Marie Mancini, 16; 
lost to Marie Mancini, 31. 

Thurloe, John, Secretary of 
Council of State, 114. 



U 



Upsal, school at, in 161 1, 88; 
University of, foimded in 
1476, 88. 



V 



Val-de-Grace, threat of Anne of 

Austria to take refuge at, 32. 
Vaubrun, Abb6 de, inventor of 

the Great Nights of Sceaux, 

239. 
Venel, Madame de, governess of 

Marie Mancini, 42. 
Venus, representation of, by 

Marie Mancini, 55. 
Villars, Madame de, describes 

Marie Mancini, February i, 

1681, 69. 
Voltaire, quarrel of, with the 



36o 



Index 



powers, 1746, 276; letter of, 
from Berlin, to Madame du 
Maine, December 18, 1752, 
284. 

W 

Wachter, the Latin verses by, 

300. 
Wedding ceremony, among the 

Arabs, 160. 
Weissenfels, the Duke of, suitor 

for Princess Wilhelmina, 315. 
Westphalia, treaty of, signed, 

94. 



Wilhelmina, Princess. (See Bay- 
reuth, Margravins of,.) 

Whitelock, letter of to Court of 
Sweden, 114. 

Wusterhausen, residence of 
Frederick William at, 311. 



Zadig, written by Voltaire in 

1746, 276. 
Zanzibar, the slave market at, 

165; departure of the fleet 

from, 183, 



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Romance of the French Abbeys 

Octavo. With 2 Colored, 9 Photogravure, 
50 other Illustrations, and Ornamental Headpieces 

"A _ delightful blending of history, art, and romance. . . , Many of 
the stories related are thrilling and none the less exciting because they belong 
to history," — Chicago Dial. 

Romance of the Feudal Chateaux 

Octavo. With 40 Photogravure 
and other Illustrations 

"The author has retold the legends and traditions which cluster about 
the chateaux and castles, which have come down from the Middle Ages, with 
the skillful touch of the artist and the grace of the practiced writer. . . . 
The story of France takes on a new light as studied in connection with the 
architecture of these fortified homes." — Christian Intelligencer. 

Romance of 
the Renaissance Chateaux 

Octavo. With 40 Photogravure 
and other Illustrations 

"The romances of those beautiful chateaux are placed by the author on 
the lips of the people who lived in them. She gives us a feeling of intimacy 
with characters whose names belong to history. — M. Y. Mail and Expressi 

Romance of 
the Bourbon Chateaux 

Octavo. With Colored Frontispiece, and 
47 Photogravure and other Illustrations 

"Told with a keen eye to the romantic elements, and a clear understand- 
ing of historical significance." — Boston Transcript. 

Romance of the Italian Villas 

Five volumes. Illustrated. Each, 
in a boXy net, $3.00. (By mail, $3.25) 



L. 



G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 

NEW YORK LONDON 



DEC 7 t906 



